


Rose Hill

by justsotv



Category: Glee
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Master/Slave, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 139,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsotv/pseuds/justsotv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18th Century, St. Kitts. Quinn Fabray is the daughter of a rich plantation farm owner. Rachel Berry is born a slave. When a death in the family brings Rachel into Quinn's life, she starts questioning life as she had always known. D&S undertones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Rose Hill Plantation, 1763_

"Push, madam! I can see the head already! Push!" The black woman encouraged, lifting her apron to catch a droplet of sweat running down her forehead. The storm that raged outside wasn't enough to cool down the weather, and although she wasn't the one giving birth she felt like most of the efforts to bring that baby to the world were coming from her.

She had helped in more labors than she could count, but this wasn't like any others. The air in the great house was thick in tension since Madam Judy's water broke the night before. It was simply known that white women had more trouble bringing children to this world, and the fact that Madam Judy wasn't exactly joyful about the child to come only made it more difficult.

"Please, madam! Just one more push! Please!" The woman begged. She had never had a child die in her hands, and this wouldn't be the first. She couldn't handle the responsibility. She couldn't even think of the punishment she would receive if anything happened to either mother or baby.

The loudest scream was concealed by a thunder that made the whole house shake. In a second, against the mother's efforts to keep it inside, the baby slipped out right into the black woman hands. The baby didn't cry. She had no reason to, after all. The black woman brought it closer to her face, to assure it was breathing properly as she grabbed rags from the bed and wrapped up the tiny child.

"Oh, look madam! What a beautiful face!" She said softly, walking to the side of the bed and taking the baby closer to the mother's side.

"What is it?" Judy asked, turning her face to the other side and closing her eyes. The black woman shook her head with furrowed eyebrows at her madam's reaction. Leave it to white people to renegade their children, when those were already born with everything they could possibly need.

"It's a beautiful, strong baby girl!" She exclaimed cheerfully, looking down to the baby and rocking it in her arms.

"Get her out of here," Judy demanded. "And come back to change my sheets. I need to sleep."

The black woman swallowed thick. She would have spat right into her madam's face, if she didn't know what that would gain her. If her own mother had taught her anything, it was to always care and tender to the little ones. She couldn't put up with someone who dismissed such a small baby like it was made out of evil.

"Don't worry, little one," she whispered, once she knew her madam couldn't hear it. "Mama's gonna take care of you."

* * *

_Basseterre, 1763_

Living in the city had its advantages. Etta was glad that on her days off she could roam around the streets and even go to church by herself, a treat not given to most slaves. Basseterre wasn't a very big city, but was much better than being isolated in a big farm, like she had many years before. Being a slave would never be a pleasant condition for anyone, but being a servant in the city was the closest thing to being free she had ever experienced.

Still, it was far from perfect. The Fabray mansion had only three servants, which made each one of them be loaded with work everyday. It's not that they couldn't afford more slaves - in fact, they were the family with more slaves in the whole island. The Fabrays just kept the majority of their slaves at the plantation, where their work would be providing profit for their owners.

Normally, Etta wouldn't mind it. She was used to working hard. But right now, as she pushed through labor, she just wished there were a few more servants so that at least one of them could be up in the attic with her. She wished that someone would be holding her hand and encouraging her. It was her first time giving birth, after all. She had no idea if what she was doing was right - or even normal.

But she prayed. Oh, she prayed. And she pushed with all her strength. She fought hard against her body that wanted to succumb and fall limp on the the narrow bed. It was far from comfortable. The thin mattress made it feel like her back was laying straight on the hard floor and with each contraction she felt the pressure in her back getting stronger.

The fact that she couldn't scream, or make any kind of noises for what mattered, just made everything much harder. She didn't want to - nor could - disturbe her master. For a second, she could swear she wouldn't make out of it alive. She felt a burning on her lower parts, and tears ran down her cheek as she gave the one last push that would bring her baby in to the world.

A feisty baby, that one. She cried hard. She was born without a care in the world, against all of her mother's efforts to keep the house quiet. Etta was elated looking down at her baby and finding out it was a girl. She held her tight in her arms, and the baby didn't hesitate for a second before grabbing a nipple in her mouth. She was born knowing what she wanted. And she would fight for it. She wouldn't ever settle for less.

"Rachel…" Etta whispered, rocking her body softly to calm down her baby and placing a lovingly kiss at the top of her head. "Welcome, my love."

* * *

_Rose Hill Plantation, 1763_

The woman entered the drawing room and the tall white man sprung to his feet, hushing to her side. He breathed out in relief, seeing the baby was perfect and appeared to be healthy. They would have to wait until the storm had passed to have a doctor come and check it with certain.

"Good God, Minda. It's beautiful!" The man exclaimed content, getting the attention from a small boy who played quietly in the corner. "What is it?" The man asked.

The small boy turned around and focused his big blue eyes on the small wrapped child. Minda looked directly at him, and smiled.

"It's a baby girl, master!" She said softly, and watched a small tear stray from her master's eye before he caught it in a knuckle.

"Thank God!" He whispered, brushing his thumb against the baby's cheek. The baby shrieked and turned his mouth towards her father's hand. Years of experience told Minda the baby wanted to be fed, but she didn't need to be very smart to know her madam wouldn't do it.

"Can I see it, father?" The small boy asked, still sitting on the corner. Minda had never seen a better behaved boy at such tender age.

"Of course, George! Come here!" Russell waved his hand, and George ran into his arms to be lifted.

"Look at her, young master! You got yourself another baby sister," said Minda.

The baby moved her head around and slowly fluttered her eyes open facing her father and brother. Both of them let out small noises of awe, and Minda's heart flooded knowing although her mother had rejected her, the baby would still have much love from the men in her family. No baby should grow up without love.

"She opened her eyes! She likes me!" George squealed, getting a small husky laugh from his father.

"She certainly does!" Russell agreed. "What are we gonna name her?" He asked, turning to the small boy.

George hummed in thinking, and leaned forward to caress the top of the little girl's head. Her thin blonde hair moved with his touch, and her small lips bowed in an almost smile.

"Quinnie!" George uttered with confidence. "Her name is Quinnie!"

"Quinnie?" Russell asked with a chuckle, to which his son nodded vigorously. "Quinnie." He repeated to himself with a nod and one more chuckle. "That's a good name. Good work, son." He smiled to his son, who smiled back proudly, and then let the little girl grab his thumb with a full hand. "Welcome home, Quinnie."

"Miss Quinnie!" Minda said quietly, pressing the little girl tightly against her warm body.

Russell put his son down, and George returned promptly to his toys. The man bobbed his head towards the door. Minda took the cue, knowing he would sooner or later want to have a private conversation away from his son's eyes.

"How's my wife?" Russell asked, standing by the door and placing his hands on his hips. Minda bit her lower lip apprehensively and shook her head lightly.

"Madam's fine, master. But she's not very happy," she said. "She didn't wanna look at the baby when I told her it was a girl, and she told me to just change the sheets because she wanted to sleep. I sent Dorea to do so while I cleaned the baby," she explained herself, and Russell nodded slowly with his lips pouted.

"Let's give her time. She'll come around. She's gone through a lot," he concluded.

"Yes, master," Minda agreed, like always. Russell motioned to turn around and leave, just when Quinnie shrieked once more in her arms. "Master?" She asked, and he faced her again. "The baby needs to be fed."

"Right, right." Russell nodded with a heavy sigh, scratching his head. "Get someone from the quarters to do so."

"Master?" He was already leaving when Minda called him once more. "I can do it, master. It would be an honor."

"That would be fine, Minda," said Russel, with a small smile. Minda wasn't used to seeing him being so kind to the servants, but smiled back. "You can bring your own up to the kitchen house, then. I don't want you going down the quarters anymore. We shouldn't risk exposing her to any diseases. Not after what happened."

Minda bowed her head in gratitude. She would have bobbed a curtsy if it weren't for the baby in her arms. "Thank you, master," she said softly.

"Prepare the nursery for her. I'll arrange for the doctor to come first thing in the morning and check on her."

"Yes, master," Minda agreed.

"Oh, and Minda?" Russell called her again. "Tell Malcolm to announce the birth. Tell him to give the slaves down the quarters a day off and to kill four hogs. We're celebrating life coming back to this house!"

"Thank you, master!" Said Minda with a large smile - but Russel couldn't hear it. He was already marching down the hall in joy.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1763_

Another slap struck her face. She couldn't even see it coming, and she didn't mind the pain one bit. She just worried about her newborn daughter, who hadn't done anything wrong in her brief life and was already submitted to the harsh reality of slavery.

"Madam, please!" Etta begged, pressing the crying baby harder against her body and lowering her head to hide behind her own shoulder.

"Tell me, Henrietta. I'm your owner, you _have_ to tell me!" The older woman demanded, ready to hit her slave once more.

"Madam, you know it's a crime for a slave to tell who's the father of her child! Please, madam! Have mercy!" Etta didn't know what else she could do but plead. She didn't know a lot, but she knew the punishments for sharing that piece of information could cost her life. And she was not willing to be apart of her daughter just yet.

"Henrietta, that baby is _white_. Good Lord, I'm gonna kill you right now if you don't tell me. In front of that goddamn baby of yours!" She yelled, hitting Etta's face again. Those were the times Etta thanked the Lord that Madam Margaret had no abilities with the whip, and chose not to carry one.

She knew why all of that was happening. Etta herself wasn't purely black, but Rachel's skin was still much lighter than hers. She knew what everyone said. Her master had devoted more time than she was willing to admit in pursuing her. But although she was a slave, her mother had taught her better. She knew she wouldn't gain anything by laying with him. She denied his every try. And she had no reason to hide the truth - especially when it could take her away from the one thing she ever loved in her life.

"It's…" Etta whispered, holding back a small sob. "It's Eugene."

"Eugene?" Madam Margaret huffed. "The carriage driver?" Etta watched as her madam's lips turned into a smile and she began to chuckle, repeating to herself the name she was just told. Etta let out a shaky breath of relief, but tensed up once again once Madam Margaret stopped laughing and pulled her face to look in her eyes. "If I find out you lied to me, I won't kill you." She said calmly. "I'll torture your child. And I'll make you watch."

Etta only let her tears escape when her madam had left the room. She couldn't show her fear. She already had a hard time admitting to herself that she would have to carry these fears for the rest of her life. She damned the society that made her daughter a slave, even though Eugene was a free man.

But they had discussed it. Eugene was a good man. He promised her he would save enough money to buy Rachel's freedom. And there was nothing Etta could do but faithfully believe him.

* * *

_Rose Hill Plantation, 1763_

"Come on in!" Minda replied when hearing a soft knock at the door. The door opened slightly and Minda watched big blue eyes peeking inside. "Oh, it's you young master! Come in!"

"It's George, Minda." He insisted, pulling a chair and sitting by her side.

Minda loved George like her own. She had watched the little boy grow, and helped tendering for him - although she didn't do as much as she was doing for small Quinnie. The boy was more respectful than most grown men Minda knew, and she was enchanted by the way he treated the slaves. He would make a kind master someday.

"Is she eating well?" George asked in a whisper, so not to bother Quinnie.

"She sure is!" Minda smiled looking down to the suckling baby and rocking the chair softly.

"Do you think she looks like Frannie?" George asked timidly, and Minda looked at him with a sad smile.

"What do _you_ think?" She returned the question, holding Quinnie with one hand and caressing his hair with the other.

"I think so," he whispered, leaning to drop a kiss on the baby's tiny feet. "Is that why mother won't look at her?"

Minda felt honored. She knew those questions had been bothering George for a while. She could watch sadness taking over his eyes every time they tried to get madam Judy to take a look at the baby. Having him ask her, from all of people, made her sure the boy trusted her.

"Yes, George, I think so," she whispered, carefully watching his reactions. She didn't want to hurt the little boy, but she knew better than to lie to a master. Even such young one. "Your mother didn't know how to deal with that loss. But just look at her…" Minda whispered, looking down to the baby in her arms once more. "Quinnie is a special baby."

"Special?" George asked curiously, and Minda nodded. "Special how?"

"Just think, George. She's a strong baby. Her birth was a difficult one, and still, she didn't even cry." Minda started listing her reasons. "She's barely born and she's already responsible for getting me up to the kitchen house and bring all my children. She's barely born and all the slaves are grateful for her life - because of her they ate more meat this week than they had in their whole life." She continued, and watched as George's smile grew bigger. "She's a strong, special baby and she will change our world some day."

"I love her!" George sighed, looking lovingly at her.

"And so you should. You'll help her. She'll need your help." Minda completed, and the shine in George's eyes made her sure he would never disappoint her.

The two siblings were still too little, but their love was big enough to conquer anything.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1766_

Anyone who saw Rachel, white as snow, sitting around her mother's skirts and with not a care in the world, would think she was a free girl. Her mother took the most pristine care of her, and always made sure her clothes were in perfect state and her hair was tightly combed back in a neat ponytail.

She could stay there, watching her mother work for hours a day. They would lowly sing while doing so, or she would delight in hearing the stories her mother told her. Sometimes she didn't believe them - she had a hard time thinking of fields so big you could run and run and never see the end of them. But her mother swore the stories were all true.

Sometimes, her mother would let her help in a few small things. From churning the butter, to finishing the desserts for supper. If she was a good girl, her mother would even let her lick the rest of the whipping cream on the spoon - but she had to hide to do that. Their master couldn't find out.

What Rachel loved the most though, were Sundays. When her father didn't have to work, and they could spend the whole day together. She really missed him during the week, so she couldn't waste a second of the only day she had him all of herself.

"Sary was so happy to see you again, little one!" Her father said, holding her in his arms so that she could reach and pat the horse's head.

"I'm happy too! I missed her!" Rachel exclaimed, hugging the horse's head with her whole arms. She always had a hard time saying goodbye.

"I'm sure you did, dear. Now, come back inside. Your father has to leave!" Etta said from the door. Rachel gave her a big pout.

"Go to your mother, Rachel. You know Sary and I'll be back next week." Her father tried to convince her, but she held her arms tighter against the horse. "Maybe if you really behave, I could start teaching you to ride next Sunday," he said. There was nothing Rachel wanted more than to learn how to ride. Her father kept insisting she was too young, but Rachel knew she was ready. She knew she could do it.

"What a lovely family reunion, isn't it?" Madam Margaret shouted from the parlor, coming to meet them outside. Rachel froze. "Now if only you would return doing your job Etta, we would happily avoid further trouble."

"Yes, Madam." Etta abided, lowering her head.

She didn't know when, but she had long time learned to be afraid of Madam Margaret. The woman had never touched her - her mother never allowed, and always hid her when she did something wrong. But still, something about her constantly angry face and the smoke that escaped her lips as she opened her tobacco stained lips made Rachel shiver.

"Come on now, dear." Her mother walked down the steps to the street and took Rachel in her arms. The little girl immediately laid her head on her mother's shoulder, hiding her face and bringing her thumb to her mouth. Her other hand shyly waved goodbye to her father, and she closed her eyes tightly as they passed Madam Margaret. Still, she couldn't protect her ears from hearing what the woman would say next.

"If I ever see that girl sucking her thumb again, I'm gonna cut it off," said Madam Margaret. "She's not a baby anymore, and she needs to learn some manners."

Rachel swore she would never do it again.

* * *

_Rose Hill Plantation, 1766_

Quinnie sat on the floor of the drawing room while her mother knit. She was supposed to be playing with her dolls, or her tea set, or her paints - in fact, she just had to be quiet and not disturb her mother. She knew the rules, and she knew not to break them. Her mother wasn't exactly patient.

And she _really_ was trying to play quietly, but the window was right by her side. The window was right by her side, and she could see the kitchen house and several black children playing outside. They ran, and they hugged each other, and they laughed so much that she could almost hear it from inside. She sighed deeply - too deeply - enough to make her mother's eyes deviate from the knitting to her. One look was all it took for Quinnie's spine to shiver.

"I'm sorry, mother," she whispered, but her mother simply ignored and moved her slender fingers once more.

"Stop looking at that window." Her mother commanded.

Quinnie nodded, and moved closer to her mother with her doll in her lap. It couldn't hurt to ask, right? She clutched the doll tightly in her arms, summoning all the courage she had inside of her before opening her mouth in a tiny whisper.

"Mother?" She asked, and her mother husked annoyed to have to stop and look at her once more. "Why can't I play with them?" She asked looking outside the window, her voice so small she wasn't even sure her mother would hear it.

"We've talked about this before." She answered sharply. "They're slaves."

"The Pierces play with their slaves." Quinnie answered in a tiny whisper. She didn't mean for her mother to hear it, and gulped when she realized she had. Her mother hated comparisons.

"And that's why _The Pierces_ farm is a disaster. Don't compare us to them." Judy half-yelled, and Quinnie took a step back. Her mother had never beaten her, but she feared that day was getting closer.

"I'm sorry, mother," Quinnie whispered.

"Quinnie!" She heard someone call, and was elated to find her brother standing at the door. She beamed and stood up, ready to go to him when her mother yelled.

"For the last time, her name is Quinn! Don't call her Quinnie!" Quinn took another step back, and wondered how George could appear so unfazed.

"I'm sorry, mother." George replied, bowing his head in respect. "I was wondering if Quinni- Quinn and I could play for a while before supper is ready." He asked, and his mother set the knitting on the couch by her side to acknowledge him. A kind of attention Quinnie never got.

"You're supposed to be studying, George."

"I'm done for the day, mother. I've studied all my lessons already," he replied with a smile.

"I'm sure you can find something else to do."

Sometimes Quinnie felt like her mother purposely didn't want to let her have any fun. If her father were home, they wouldn't even need to have this conversation. Unlike her mother, he just wanted to see Quinnie happy. He didn't even mind when people called her Quinnie instead of Quinn.

"Mother." George asked, waiting for his mother to catch his eyes before saying wistfully. "Please."

Quinnie didn't know what kind of magic her brother had, but somehow he always managed to get whatever he wanted. She wished she knew his secret.

"Just go." Judy growled, taking her knitting needles back in her hands. Quinnie stood still in disbelief, until her mother threw the yarn ball at her head. "Go before I regret it."

And Quinn leaped into her feet and out of the room with her brother.

Once she knew they wouldn't be heard anymore, she turned to ask him.

"Where are we going?"

"The kitchen house," he answered with a smirk, before being tackled in a tight hug.

"I love you so much, George!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Rose Hill, 1769_

On the Rose Hill farm, there wasn't one slave who hadn't fallen in love with Quinnie Fabray. The little girl was nothing but generous and kind to all of them, and her company had become the highlight of their days. And it was reciprocated - Quinnie waited all day until her brother's studies were done, so he could take her to the kitchen house.

Quinnie worshiped her brother. He was her savior, taking her from the arms of her harsh birth mother and bringing her to the arms of the so sweet Mama Minda.

"Oh, look who's here!" Mama Minda exclaimed. All the children playing on the backyard came into the kitchen at once. Quinnie smiled shyly and tugged her brother's coat. "Come give Mama Minda a hug, Quinnie!"

The woman didn't have to ask twice. Quinnie went to her, with blond curls escaping out of her bonnet and bouncing as she skipped her way through the kitchen. Chubby arms wrapped around the black woman's neck, and Quinnie placed a wet kiss on her cheek.

"The kids were all anxious to play with you, Miss Quinnie!" Said the woman with a smile, pulling George by the hand for a hug. Quinnie watched as her brother, who always looked so big in her eyes, melt in the woman's arm to become just a little boy - just like her.

"Are they all yours, Mama Minda?" Quinnie asked, watching the other children chatting by the door.

"Oh, no, no, dear!" Mama Minda shook her head with a chuckle. "I take care of the kids of other woman while they work. They're not all _my kids_ , but they are all in my heart, just as if they were. And you know what?" She asked, grabbing Quinnie's attention.

"What, Mama Minda?" She asked with hazel eyes focused on the woman's face.

"You and George are right there in my heart too!" Mama Minda explained, placing a hand on her chest. Quinnie's smile grew further, and she walked to the corner to check on the small baby who recently started coming up to the kitchen house during the days.

"Quinnie, I'm gonna go play with the kids outside! Want to come?" George asked, already being pulled out the door by the small children.

"Oh no, George, you can go. I'm gonna stay here with the baby for a while." She smiled, and her brother nodded before leaving. "Does he have a name yet, Mama Minda?" Quinnie asked.

"He does not! His mother isn't having any ideas lately…" Mama Minda said with a sad smile. Quinnie was perceptive enough to know something was wrong, but she was still too young to know what it was. "Would you like to name him yourself?"

"Me?" Quinnie asked perplexed. Although she felt like a big girl now that she had turned 6, she wasn't sure if she was old enough to make such a big decision. But if Mama Minda said she could, she would trust her. She thought for a while, caressing the baby's boy head before turning to the woman again. "What about Archie?"

"Archie. That's a great name, Quinnie!" Mama Minda walked towards them, and pulled a chair for Quinnie to sit. "Would you like to hold him?" She asked, and Quinn nodded with the biggest grin.

There were few things Quinn liked more than holding that small boy. She took pride when Mama Minda would congratulate her for how well she cared for him - and sometimes she was even allowed to help clean his bottom. She had many, many dolls. But she never liked playing with them as much as she liked being with Archie.

"Quinnie! Mother is asking for us!" George blurted between heavy breaths once he entered the kitchen house again. "I'll go distract her while you put the baby down, but please, hurry!" He explained, leaving as quick as he came. Quinn sighed deeply.

"Mother doesn't like when we come down here…" She explained to Mama Minda with another sigh. She never understood why her mother had to be like that. "I wish I could just stay here. It's so boring in there. I wish I could be one of your children."

"But I just told you, Quinnie! You are!" Mama Minda said, grabbing the small boy from her arms.

"Oh, you know… I wish I was one of the children who can live with you, Mama. I wish you were my _real_ mother." Quinn said sadly.

"Oh, Quinnie. You are the one to choose those who is your family. If you want, I'm your family. It doesn't matter if you're up at the big house or down here at the kitchen house. I'll always be your Mama. And Archie will always be your Archie! And we love you all the way from down the quarters to up the hill!"

"Thank you so much, Mama! You are such a blessing in my life!" Quinn said, tackling the woman in a tight hug before running back to her house.

* * *

"Quinnie! Quinnie!" George shook her arm. "Wake up!"

Quinnie rubbed her eyes and turned to her side to see her brother standing by her bed. His eyes were bulged out and he bit his lips, waiting for her to pay attention to him.

"What is it, George?" She asked in a husky voice. It was only dawn. She wasn't used to waking up so early - and she hated it.

"Something happened down the quarters. Something happened. I called Mama Minda to bring me some milk but she didn't answer, so I went to the kitchen house and no one's there!" He explained, fidgeting his hands. "I think we should talk to father. Will you come with me?"

Quinnie was already up on her feet. She knew that the same way her brother could work his magic with their mother, she was the one when they needed to go to their father. She wasn't exactly comfortable entering their parent's room - they knew they weren't allowed to do so unless they were asked to. But this was an emergency.

"Father?" Quinnie whispered. Her father opened his eyes immediately, startling Quinnie, who took a step back.

"What is it, princess?" He asked with a voice filled with concern.

"Something is happening down the quarters, father. And there's no one in the kitchen house either." She said softly, as her mother lifted the head to hear why her sleep had been interrupted.

"Is that true, George?" Her mother asked. She never believed Quinnie.

"Mr. Fabray!" The door was slammed open before George could answer. "There's an uprising! We're losing control, you need to come right now!" Shouted Malcolm, the overseer. Quinnie hid behind the bed. She didn't like him.

"God dammit!" Her father growled, getting up and grabbing a long rifle gun on his way to the door. "You three stay in here. Do not come out until I'm back, hear me?"

"Yes, father." Quinn agreed lowly, closing her eyes when she felt George's arms wrapping her up in a hug.

"You better stay quiet," said her mother, looking directly at Quinn, as usual. "I don't wanna be awaken again."

Quinnie heard her stomach growling, but ignored it and tried to make time pass faster by playing quietly with her brother.

After a while, her mother started pacing back and forward through the room. It was making Quinn's stomach sick, but she didn't dare to say a word. She knew her mother was distressed, and she knew what could happen if she said something.

It was way past dinner time when her father came back.

"So?" Judy asked, as Russell walked inside taking off his hat and wiping droplets of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He walked past her, and sat between his two children.

"Everything is under control. Everything is gonna be fine." He said with small nods. Quinnie didn't realize she was nodding too. "But there was a fatality…"

"A what?" Quinnie asked, raising one eyebrow. Her father patted his lap, and Quinnie promptly abode, moving to sit there. He held George's hand, and closed his eyes. Quinnie was getting nervous and anxious, but she didn't know why.

"Mama Minda is dead." Russell said, and opened his eyes when he heard a giggle from Judy. He stared angrily at her, but she rolled her eyes and sat on the bed.

"What? How could that happen?" George asked. Quinnie wanted to make the same question, but words wouldn't come to her mouth as her eyes flooded with tears.

"I would rather spare you the details." Russell sighed. "I'm sorry, children."

"Oh, please!" Judy huffed when a small sob escaped Quinn's mouth. "There's no need to be so dramatic, I bet we can buy a new slave who will cook much better than she ever did."

Quinn couldn't believe her mother's words. She couldn't believe they would ever find another slave that loved her as much as Mama Minda did. Quinn felt the tug in her heart turn into something else. As if her blood started boiling inside of her.

"Do you know who did it, father?" She asked. "Do you? Because I want them dead."

Quinnie wasn't sure who gasped louder at her words. George looked shocked, and her mother looked at her in disbelief. But her father didn't show any reaction. Maybe he agreed with her. She knew he had always been thankful for Mama Minda had taken care of her.

"I guess we can do that." He nodded. Judy gasped once more, and Quinn smiled. Her father never disappointed her. He backed up all of her decisions. He conceded all of her wishes.

"You can't be serious, Russell!" Judy stood up. "I know you spoil that girl rotten, but that's too much, even for you. We can't afford to just kill slaves to satisfy her wishes. Slaves cost money!"

Quinn grabbed her father's arm tighter. She exchanged a glance with George, and knew he was also awry by the discussion. Her parents discussions never ended well, and her mother tended to take it off on her.

"It's not a bad idea, Judy. This will show them that uprisings will not go unpunished. It shows them their place." He argued, but she didn't seem pleased. Russell took Quinn off his lap and set her on the floor. "Weren't you the one always saying that Quinnie doesn't get how slavery works? She seems to understand it now. She's right. Whoever did this needs to be killed."

"For God's sake! Her name is Quinn!" Judy yelled, and Russell just shook his head and walked to the door. "You are ruining your daughter, Russell. You'll be the one held accountable for the consequences of this." Her face was bright red, and Quinnie hid under George's arms. He kissed the top of her head, and even that wasn't enough to convince her everything would be okay.

"No one but me kills my slaves, Judy."

* * *

"Bring me some milk, I'll find a way of giving it to him!" Quinn asked a little slave girl, as she rocked Archie on a chair. The baby looked up at her and cooed, getting a giggle out of her. She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his forehead, just as her father entered the kitchen.

"Quinnie?" He asked, with furrowed eyebrows. "Whose baby is that?"

"He's mine, father!" She answered cheerfully, stroking the baby's curly hair.

"Quinnie, that baby can't be yours. Tell me where you got it!" He demanded, with a tone of voice Quinnie wasn't used to listening from his mouth. She frowned. The baby was hers!

"He used to be Mama Minda's, but you know, she _died_ ," she whispered the last word, so the baby wouldn't hear it. "I went down the quarters and got him back. He's mine now. I even named him!" She said with a big grin, that faded away when she realized her father wasn't as excited as she was. "He's name is Archie, and I love him dearly. I'm gonna protect him from all those terrible slaves that killed Mama Minda."

"Quinnie…" Her father sighed, pulling a chair and sitting by her side. "Give that baby to her," he said, pointing his head to the oldest slave among the children. "And come to the front yard. We're gonna whip the man that killed Minda, and I would like for you to count the whips. Would you do that?"

"Yes, father!" Her smile grew, and her eyes shined. They would get what they deserved for taking away from her the mother she had chosen for herself. "I would love to."

* * *

"Father!" Quinnie shouted, entering the drawing room where her parents sat.

"Do not yell, Quinn. I've told you so." Judy hissed, not taking her eyes away from her book. Quinn didn't know why her mother could yell, her father could yell, and she couldn't. But she had more important matters to discuss than that.

"There's no one in the kitchen house!" She cried out, ignoring her mother and moving closer to her father.

"I can't count how many times I said you shouldn't go there." Judy complained again, and Quinn huffed.

"I was hungry, I wanted to be fed, mother!" She lied. She would do anything to stop her mother, and get some answer from her father. "Where is everyone?"

"They were sold, Quinn." She flinched when her father didn't call her Quinnie. He swallowed hard.

"What do you mean… sold?" Quinn sat on her knees, tilting her head to the side.

"See? I told you, she doesn't get how it works." Judy replied with a smug smile.

"We don't have Minda to take care of all those children anymore. We sold them and bought adult slaves, who can actually work." He answered. Quinn could see his voice wasn't certain. She knew for a fact this hadn't been his idea.

"But _sold_?" She whined. She couldn't believe it.

"Yes, Quinnie. They're slaves. That's what they're for. To work, to make us money." He said in sigh. If he thought that he would end the conversation just by calling her Quinnie again, he couldn't be more wrong.

"But father, even Archie?" She cried. "You know I love Archie, father! I love that baby!"

"I told you, Russell. I knew this wouldn't work. See?" Judy chuckled, proud to be right. "She thinks they're _human beings_!"

"Dear…" He took his hand, ignoring his wife. "You can't love a slave. They're not _able_ to love. That baby couldn't be yours, because he's not like us. One day you'll have a baby of your own to love forever. And then you'll understand the difference."

But Quinn swore she would never love a baby as much as she loved Archie.

"But who am I gonna play with?" Quinn asked, voicing the worries in her head.

"Things will change in this house, Quinn. Starting today. As of tomorrow, your brother will be leaving to attend a boarding school in England. And you, you'll make real friends. _White_ friends." Her mother said, getting up and walking closer to her. Each step closer, and each word that left her mouth, felt like a pinch on Quinn's heart. She wasn't sure she could keep breathing much longer. "I don't wanna see you chatting with slaves anymore. You're to talk to them only to demand what you need. A tutor will start coming daily to give you your lessons. It's time you learn about this world, if you're gonna stay in it."

"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much?" She asked her mother, quickly wiping a stray tear that left her eye but standing up fiercely.

"This is not a punishment, dear." Her father answered, scooping her up in his arms. "George wants to be a doctor. Which leaves this whole place to you. You'll be the one running it soon enough. We need you to know how this works. We need you to have a hand with slaves."

"But… What if I don't want to?" Quinnie asked, hiding her face in the crook of her father's neck.

"You'll want it. I know you will. You're my little girl, and I know you won't disappoint me."

"Can I at least say goodbye to George?" She managed to ask before sobs wrecked out of her body.

"Of course, dear. Let's go." Russell soothed her, running his hand through her back.

Quinn was only six, but she knew, then and there, that her life would never be the same.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1769_

Rachel had to wear her best dress that day. She didn't understand what the occasion was, but she was told they were having visits on the house and she needed to look presentable. As usual, Rachel, her mother, and the other servants waited by the door until the carriage bringing the guests arrived.

Madam Margaret walked briskly towards the carriage, and opened the biggest smile when the door opened. Rachel had never seen her this excited about anything. She assumed the guests were really important this time.

"My son! It's time you paid your old mother a visit!" She exclaimed, wrapping Russell in a hug.

"Mother, it hasn't been such a long time! You haven't aged a day!" He argued, taking off his hat.

"Oh, I've raised you well!" Madam Margaret said, flustered. Rachel frowned in confusion, looking up to her mother. "And there's my sweet granddaughter! Quinnie, my dear! You look just like royalty!"

"Hello, grandmother." Quinn bobbed a curtsy, and Madam Margaret placed both hands on top of her heart.

"Isn't she lovely?" Madam Margaret asked, grabbing her son's hand. "And where's my dear George?" She asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"I'm afraid he couldn't come, mother. We have sent him to study in England!" Russell answered proudly.

"Oh, Lord! My grandson is in the land of the queen! I always knew he was made for greatness!" Her smiled beamed. "Come inside, you need to tell me everything, Russell!" She pulled him by one hand and her granddaughter by the other.

Rachel watched as a blonde woman was left behind and not addressed by Madam Margaret. The woman huffed and hushed her way inside. Rachel's mother chuckled before relaxing once everyone was inside the house. Rachel didn't understand what was so funny. She also didn't understand why they had to be there, waiting outside, when no one ever noticed them anyway.

But more than anything, she was enchanted by the carriage. Four golden horses pulled it, and they were the tallest horses Rachel had ever seen. She walked towards them, and one of them trusted its head in her direction. She took it as encouragement, and walked closer. The horse neighed, and brushed his nose against her lifted hand.

Rachel giggled and pat the horse until she was slapped by big heavy hand. She winced and squealed in startle, bringing her hand back as tears flooded her eyes. She had never been slapped. She had never seen the man who did so.

"Don't disturb the horses." He said sharply, pulling one of them by their straps. "Move on." He commanded, shoving Rachel out of the way.

Rachel was welcomed in her mother's arms but sobbed harder when instead of soothing her, her mother preached her about how she was supposed to know better.

* * *

"Oh my Dear, I can't believe you are six already! We're gonna celebrate your belated birthday today!" Madam Margaret said, placing several boxes around her granddaughter. Rachel had never seen one child getting so many gifts. For a second, she wished she was that girl. But then she remembered she wouldn't have her mother and father, and shook the thoughts away.

"Mother, you will spoil her more than I already do!" Russell said playfully, leaning back on the chair and lighting up a corncob pipe, just like Madam Margaret's. Rachel absolutely hated that smell.

"Well, I have to! She's the only little girl in our family! Especially since your sister decided to move to America, that fool!" Madam Margaret explained herself. Judy coughed hard, but again, no one seemed to notice. Rachel wondered if maybe the woman was also a slave. She didn't dress like one, but she certainly was ignored like one. "Henrietta!" Madam Margaret called out.

"Yes, madam?" Etta was promptly by the door, ready to answer as always.

"Will you make my granddaughter a cake for her birthday?" She said. "Make it with extra frosting. I know she likes it." Madam Margaret pinched Quinn's cheek, who smiled but at the same time let out a small groan. Rachel chuckled, and was happy to see no one realized it.

"Yes, madam!" Etta bowed her head, pulling Rachel's hand towards the kitchen with her. "Come, sweetie."

Rachel sat on the table - something she was never allowed to do - while her mother mixed the ingredients for the cake. She licked her lips, holding her hands together to prevent her fingers from dipping in the batter to taste it.

"You wanna know a secret?" Her mother asked. Rachel nodded vigorously. She loved secrets. "You are six years old!" Her mother whispered.

"Me?" Rachel asked confused. "No mother, I'm five! You said so yourself!"

"I know dear, but I also know you were born just a few days after Miss Quinn. If she's six, you certainly have turned six too!" Her mother said happily. "Happy birthday, sweetie!"

"Where are my presents?" Rachel's eyes and smile grew. She leaned forward on the table. She didn't know how to deal with anxiety - she rarely had something to be anxious about.

"Dear, you don't get any gifts. Those are for rich people, remember? Like on Christmas." Her mother answered with the saddest smile. Rachel's whole body scrunched down.

"What about a cake?" She asked hopeful.

"Rachel, baby… We're slaves." Her mother said. As if she didn't know that already. She just didn't understand why it had to be that way. "But you know what? You have something they don't. You have a mother that loves you to death. A love pure and truthful. That's the best gift you can ever give to anyone."

Rachel smiled softly. It wasn't a doll, or any kind of toys. But it did make her happy.

* * *

Rachel woke up with the door from their room being slammed open. She and her mother shared a mattress, so there was no way she wouldn't have woken up when her mother flinched in startle. The other servants certainly woke up as well, but Rachel still didn't know what had happened.

"Which one of you ungrateful cows ate my grandaughter's birthday cake?" Madam Margaret asked.

One glance was enough for Etta to know who had done it. Rachel's eyes bulged out and she licked her lip, afraid any remains would give her away. She didn't meant to, she really didn't. But she couldn't sleep. She was hungry. And the cake smelled so good. And maybe if she took just a small slice no one would notice. But after the first slice, it wasn't easy to stop herself.

"It was me, madam." Etta spoke out. Rachel gasped, but her mother grasped her hand tighter and she knew she should stay quiet.

From that moment on, Rachel couldn't quite register what was happening. She felt like things moved in a blur. Madam Margaret caught her mother by the hair, and Rachel cried out. Another servant held Rachel back. Rachel heard her madam telling all the servants to come down and to bring the overseer. She didn't know what it meant, but by the amount of prays leaving the other servant's mouths she assumed it wasn't good.

She felt her heart getting tight in her chest when her mother was ordered to strip down in front of everyone, in the middle of the sidewalk. Rachel knew they weren't suppose to let other people see their parts. Her mother had told her to be careful when changing clothes for no one to see. She didn't get why her mother was doing that now. She didn't get why anyone else seemed as surprised as she was. The other servant held Rachel tighter to her side as her mother laid into the ground.

"Grandmother, I can count if you'd like." Said the small, blonde girl.

"Oh my, is that really?" Madam Margaret asked. Her voice changed so abruptly that it confused Rachel further. Suddenly, it was so much softer and gentle. Rachel almost thought everything would be okay.

"Yes, and I can do so in French!" Quinn said proudly, with her hands behind her back. Her father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled.

"Oh, then please, do so!" Madam Margaret asked.

"Rachel, baby!" Her mother caught her attention. "Close your eyes, dear. Close them now!"

Rachel obeyed. _Un_ , Rachel heard a sharp noise. _Deux_ , and again. _Trois_ , and again. _Quatre_ , she fought the urge to open her eyes and see what was happening. _Cinq_ , she grabbed the servant's hand tighter. _Six_ , she heard the noise of something dripping on the floor. _Sept_ , she heard Russell's giggles. _Huit_ , she heard a groan. _Neuf_ , she realized who had groaned. _Dix_ , she didn't have to open her eyes to know what was happening.

* * *

Rachel didn't have to be a doctor to know her mother's wounds weren't healing properly. She was only six, but even she could realize the whole room smelled rotten. She had spent the morning picking small maggots out of her mother's back, and trying to convince herself that it didn't mean anything. That everything would be fine.

She watched as her father asked and begged Madam Margaret to let him pay for a doctor to see Etta. She watched as Madam Margaret denied him again and again. She watched the terror in his face. She heard her madam saying Etta deserved it and had to learn her lesson. She heard her father saying she would die if nothing was done.

Rachel wished she had stepped forward. She wished she had the courage her mother always believed she did. It wasn't fair that her mother had taken her place, when she had been the one stealing. She should be the one suffering. She should be the one to die.

Night came, and Rachel knew for sure things were getting worse. Their thin mattress was drenched in sweat. Her mother shook and whimpered. Rachel had no idea what to do. If only she could go back in time and fix things up.

"Mother, what should I do?" She asked, holding tightly onto the woman's hand. She would do anything. She couldn't lose the only thing she had in life.

"Lay down with me, dear." Her mother whispered. "There's nothing else to be done." Rachel did so, trying to fight the tears that came into her eyes. Her mother wrapped her thin arms around Rachel, and kissed her forehead with her dry chapped lips.

"Mother, please, don't leave me." Rachel begged, bawling quietly. "Please, mother. I don't know what to do. I promise I will never steal again!"

"Rachel, don't worry. I'm gonna be free, dear. Everything is gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." She released a shaky breath. Rachel found it hard to believe. "Your father will buy you. You'll be free too. I know you will. You weren't born for slavery, you were born for greater things, Rachel. And we'll meet again one day."

Rachel slept in her mother's arms.

She woke up the next morning.

Her mother didn't.

She watched as two men took her mother down, and buried her to the ground. She watched her father cry. She watched her father offering money to Madam Margaret, to buy Rachel's freedom. She watched Madam Margaret denying and saying she would need a new servant now that Etta had died. She watched as her father, her last hope, left.

Rachel was fairly sure she had run out of tears. Her small body felt tired, have shaken so hard with sobs.

She didn't meant it. She didn't realize it. It was an instinct. Before she knew, she had jammed her thumb into her mouth.

"I told you what I would do if I ever saw you sucking on that thumb again," said Madam Margaret.

Rachel wanted to close her eyes, but her body wouldn't obey her. With one clear cut, the tip of her thumb rolled down the kitchen table.

And everything went black.

* * *

When Rachel woke up again, she had no idea where she was. She only hoped everything had been just a dream, but a quick glance on her hand covered in bright red rags told her otherwise. She got up but before she could leave the room, a man came inside. She recognized him. The gardener.

"You're awake, thank the Lord!" He sighed. "Here, I brought some water."

Rachel didn't realize how thirsty she was until the water hit her mouth. The gardener had always been kind to her. When she was allowed to go outside, he would show her the flowers and tell her its names. Sometimes he would even let her take one to her room. She was glad she found someone to help her.

"I think we better change those rags. Don't look." He said, sitting on bed next to her. She wasn't sure if it was okay for him to be so close. But she was bothered by the blood in her hand and changing the rags sounded like a good idea.

She flinched when he pulled the last strip, feeling tiny pieces of yard stuck in the wound. She didn't want to look. She didn't think she would ever be able to look. But when he wrapped it up again and the rags remained white, she breathed out in relief. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore.

"You've had a rough day, kiddo." He said, scooting closer. "Lay down for a minute. I'll help you out. I'll make you happy again."

Rachel felt his wet lips in her cheek, and his hand snaking down her body. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She tried to feel happy, but her eyes still had tears. She tried to feel happy.

But she didn't.

Rachel was only six, but she knew, then and there, that her life would never be the same.


	3. Chapter 3

_Basseterre, 1778_

Rachel woke up to rough hands pulling her out of bed. Choking on air, she opened her eyes in startle as two huge man grabbed her arms and dragged her down the stairs.

"Who are you?" Rachel shouted. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" She asked, swinging her legs and trying to reach the floor - but they were too tall and too strong for her efforts. She looked around, trying to find someone who could save her, but the house was empty. "Where's everyone?" She cried out, seeing dawn breaking outside as she was shoved out the door.

The men didn't answer any of her questions, and with a harsh movement threw her inside a wagon and closed the doors.

"Open the door, please!" She begged, hitting the door with her small fists. "Please! I need to serve Madam Margaret her breakfast! She'll kill me if I'm not there!"

But it was too late. She felt the wagon starting to move, and tried to find any breach on walls that would let her know what was happening outside or where she was going to - but there were none. She crawled to the corner of the wagon and hugged her legs tightly, letting tears fall down her face. She was terrified.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1778_

Quinn waited by her father's side, her joint hands resting in front of her body. They sweat, and every few seconds she would dry them down in her gown. She could hear the carriage from afar, and the fidgeting feet of her mother only made her more anxious. It had been a long time. Perhaps too long. With one look, her father noticed how restless Quinn was, and placed an arm around her shoulder. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding, and let herself relax. Her father was there. She was going to be fine.

Hank, the carriage driver bowed in front of the family before turning on his feet and opening the carriage door. Quinn blinked three times as she watched the tall and slim young man getting out. He flashed them the biggest smile and Quinn's stomach turned on itself. Once she raised her head and met bright blue eyes, she knew there was nothing she should worry about. Her big brother was there, and she felt like he had never left.

"Oh, my baby!" Judy exclaimed in awe, being the first one to step forward and wrap her arms around George. "Look how handsome you are!"

"Hello, mother." He replied with a giggle, scrunching up his nose. He was grown, but he hadn't changed a bit. "Father," he acknowledged with a small bow of head, reaching his hand out to shake his father's. Russell shook his head and skipped the pleasantries, being the second one to give George a tight hug.

"Son, it's great to have you back," said Russell, patting George's back. George nodded with a smile, and looked over his father shoulder in Quinn's direction. Quinn gulped, suddenly becoming shy - although she didn't see any reason for it.

"And who is _that_?" George asked playfully, a side smile hanging on his lips. "It can't be my little sister! No, no! She was just a tiny little girl when I left! It can't be her!"

Quinn felt her cheeks blushing as a smile crept into her lips. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him. How lighter he made the mood of the whole house feel. She had always known her big brother was magical, somehow.

"Hi, George," she said, waving her hand from afar.

" _Hi, George?_ " He mimicked her voice. "Is that how you greet your favorite big brother? Come give me a hug, little one!" So she did. A few steps forward and his arms were around her. Her world stopped. There was no other place she felt as safe as she did inside his arms. "Damn, you've grown! What a beautiful woman you've become, Quinnie!"

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows with an awkward grin. It had been ages since someone last called her that. From the corner of her eyes, she could see her mother shaking her head in disapproval. She hated that name.

"I'm afraid you have arrived in a bad time, my son," her father said, interrupting the moment between siblings. George let go of Quinn, but kept an arm protectively placed around her shoulders - much like her father always did.

"Why is that, father?" He asked in a curious frown. Quinn wished she could paint all of his face expressions and set all of them in her wall. She couldn't get tired of looking at him.

"Your grandmother has passed away. We were just waiting your arrival to leave for the funeral. Will you join us?" He asked, with a sad smile. He was by far the one who grieved the most with the news. It was his mother, after all.

"Oh, Lord. Of course I will!" George gasped, his lips curling in a small pout. "I had been looking forward to seeing Grandmother Margaret again. How sad that it will be under these conditions…"

* * *

_Basseterre, 1778_

Quinn hated wearing black. She disliked the color, but hated more how hot she felt under the Caribbean sun wearing such dark gowns. She would still find a way of avoiding the three months mourning period - it was just too long. She wasn't _that_ close to her grandmother. She held her hand kerchief merely by custom, but not a single tear ran out of her eyes as she watched the old woman's body being lowered into the ground.

A few slaves stood behind the several white people who watched the ceremony. Quinn wasn't sure where all those people had come from - her grandmother wasn't the most popular one among the city. She had never made an effort to be nice to her neighbors.

After a few prayers, everyone started moving towards the court where her will would be read. Suddenly it struck Quinn why so many people were there. They all hoped they would get something out of the Fabray's fortune. Quinn knew better. Generosity wasn't one of her family traits.

"Hey," said George, grabbing Quinn's hand on the way. "Everything okay?" He asked in concern.

"Yes, brother!" She answered casually, with a nod and a smile.

"Didn't see you crying over there…" He commented with a small frown and red eyes. She certainly couldn't say the same about him. His sobbing had made her uncomfortable just a few minutes earlier. "Grandmother really loved you Quinnie."

"I know she did." Quinn nodded. She was growing incredibly uneasy by the use of her childhood nickname. "I just didn't feel like crying." She shrugged. "She was old and bound to die anytime. It's not like this was a fatality," she explained herself, and shivered when she caught her brother's eyes. Disappoint. Sometimes she wished she wasn't so good at reading people.

* * *

"In the name of God, Amen. I Madam Margaret Fabray, in the city of Basseterre grazier being in perfect hearth of body and of perfect sound mind memory and understanding and considering the uncertainty of this life, do make and ordain this my last will and testament in manner and form following." A court officer read, loud and clear. Quinn sat between her brother and father, leaning her head on her hands as he went on.

"First and principally, I commend my soul into the hands of God my maker, hoping through the merits of Christ my Redeemer, to receive full pardon of all my sins and to inherit everlasting life after death." Quinn growled quietly. If they could just skip to the important part, she wouldn't die in the heat inside the small court house.

"As for my body, I commit it to the Earth to be decently interred at the discretion of my executor hereafter named." Quinn could swear her death would arrive before that will had finished being read. Her brother tugged the sleeve of her gown with a disapproving look, and Quinn straightened up her back and swallowed her annoyance.

"As touching my personal Estate, which the Lord in mercy hath lent me, I give and bequeath as followeth." And on to the important part they went. Quinn bit her lip in anxiety. This would be the proof if her grandmother really cared for her as much as she liked to say.

"I give to my son, Mr. Russell Fabray, the Rose Hill Farm located in St. Kitts, along with the animals and slaves there living, as well as the mansion Fabray located in Basseterre - St. Kitts with all of its assets." Quinn looked to her side to see her father smiling pleased. It was no surprise he would get to keep the farm - he had been living and managing it for the bigger part of his life.

"I give to my daughter, Lady Angeline Fabray, the Oakland Farm located in Virginia - America, along with the animals and slaves there living." Quinn had always heard their family talking about Lady Angeline, her aunt, but had never met her before. The woman wasn't fond of St. Kitts, and never paid any visits. Quinn was surprised she still got something of the will.

"I give to my grandson, Mr. George Fabray, all the horses and carriages in my property located in Basseterre - St. Kitts." Quinn heard George gasping. He didn't think he would be in the will - and neither did Quinn.

"I give to my granddaughter, Ms. Quinn Fabray, the youngest slave in my property, attending by the name of Rachel, daughter of my deceased slave Henrietta and my carriage driver Eugene -"

"I get my own slave?" Quinn shouted, springing to her feet and slamming her hands against the table. The smile hanging in her lips couldn't be bigger - until she felt her father's strong arms shoving her back down her chair.

"Quinn Fabray!" He snapped. "This is the will of your grandmother. Have some respect and quit being so insensitive!"

Quinn had never seen her father so angry at her. In fact, her father never lashed out on her like that before. Whenever she did something wrong, he would simply sit her down for a talk and they sorted things out talking like two adults. She had always been comprehensive and her need to always please him made things work out easily for them. But this, was completely different. She had no idea how to react. She turned to her brother, but soon realized he wasn't pleased either.

"I apologize, father." She whispered, bowing her head and staying so until the end of the reading.

* * *

"What do you say, little girl? Let's go and see that new slave of yours?" Russell asked, and Quinn was relieved to see he wasn't upset about how she had acted during the will reading. He had always been forgiving, unlike her mother.

She took his hand, while her mother and brother walked to talk to a few distant relatives Quinn had no interest on. Her father took her to a separate room, where near endless stacks of paper she saw a girl sitting on the corner with her face hidden in her hands.

"Is that her?" Quinn asked, looking up to her father.

"I believe so, yes," he answered, patting his daughter's shoulder.

"Why is she white?" She asked in a frown. Her father giggled, and Rachel raised her head just slightly to look at them. Quinn caught her eyes for just a second, but couldn't read them. She was already hiding again.

"Dear, not all slaves are black. I believe she has mixed races," he explained.

The door opened with a loud screech, making Quinn and her father turn their heads at once. A man came inside, clearly running out of breath, and leaned against the wall to recompose himself before doing anything else.

"Father!" Rachel shouted, getting up from the corner and running to the man's arms. "Please, don't let them take me! Please!" She begged.

The man cleared his throat and whispered something in Rachel's ears. She stopped talking, and he approached Russell.

"Mr. Fabray." The man greeted, bowing his head. "I'm Eugene, your mother's carriage driver and Rachel's father. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Russell nodded in acknowledgment, waiting for the man to go on. Quinn hid behind her father. She didn't know where this was going, but she didn't like it. "I have in here 15 years worth of savings." He said, raising a bag of coins. "And I would like to buy my daughter."

Russell looked back to Quinn, who shook her head with bulged out eyes. No. She couldn't believe it. After years of asking her father for a slave, and not being allowed to have one because she was _too_ _young_ , she had finally one to call her own. She wouldn't sell her, regardless of the amount of money offered.

"While I do appreciate your offer, I'm afraid I can't sell her, Eugene," Russell said. Quinn watched as the man shrunk down in defeat and the girl resumed crying. "She's not mine, she's my daughters. And my daughter is not of age for this kind of transaction. I apologize, sir."

Quinn watched with affliction as the girl cried and begged and clung to her father. She didn't like seeing people crying. Specially slaves. They weren't suppose to do so. They weren't suppose to have feelings at all.

"Father, can we go?" Quinn asked, grabbing his hand.

"Yes, dear." He replied, placing his hand on Rachel's shoulder. The girl winced immediately and startled Quinn, who took a step back. "Say goodbye to your father, girl. We don't know when you'll be able to see him again."

Quinn left the room. She didn't want to see that.

The Fabray family hadn't thought they could be coming back home with a new slave that day. If they had thought ahead, Russell would have ordered a second carriage to come with them. But he hadn't. And now they had no other way of going home - the new slave girl would have to ride in the same carriage as they did.

Quinn couldn't explain what was the feeling on the pit of her stomach, but she couldn't stand hearing the girl's incessant sobs. It had been almost an hour, she should have stopped already. Quinn never liked goodbyes, and the whole wailing fest wasn't bringing her any good memories.

"Father," she whispered in Russell's ear. "Could you order her to stop crying? I might go crazy if she doesn't."

"You should order her, dear. She's yours now," he answered nonchalantly.

Quinn gulped, gathering the courage. It's not like she had never ordered an slave - she actually did so constantly, but only when her father wasn't around. She feared the girl wouldn't obey her. She wouldn't know what to do then. She couldn't disappoint her father.

"You!" Quinn shouted, her voice coming out more shaky than she intended. Rachel looked up at her. Quinn breathed out in relief. "Quit wailing."

She watched as Rachel swallowed her tears, and then flashed her with a stare of nothing but pure anger. Quinn shivered, and grabbed her father's arm. Rachel would not be an easy slave.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1778_

Supper had more guests than usual that night. Quinn had no appetite for some reason, but at least her family took it as a sign of her grief and let her be. After eating, the family moved into the drawing room for tea before they would go to bed.

Quinn wasn't used to having a slave following her at all times. Although she had long wanted one, she wasn't exactly sure on how to deal with it. Rachel's shadow bothered her, and the bad feeling in her gut wasn't going away.

Lady Angeline talked to Rusell - they sure had a lot to catch up on. Quinn wasn't as impressed as she though she would be. Her aunt was a Lady, yes. But besides her title, she didn't have anything special. In fact, Quinn found her arrogant and quite annoying. Deep inside, Quinn feared that the reason she didn't like her aunt was their similarities. Madam Margaret had talked about how alike they were more times than Quinn could count.

"Who is that girl over there?" Lady Angeline asked Russell, nodding her head towards Rachel.

"Mother left her for Quinn. It's her first slave," said Russell, turning back to watch as his daughter talked to his son. They sure had a lot to catch up on as well. "Quinn's thrilled about it."

"What's her name?" Lady Angeline asked, ignoring Russell's other comments. Ignoring Quinn's existence altogether.

"I don't know. Rochelle?" He questioned himself. His memory hadn't been the same as it once were. "I don't really remember."

"Well, she's quite the beauty, isn't she?" Lady Angeline rose an eyebrow, sipping her tea carefully.

"She's Quinn's, Angeline," Russell snapped, but recomposed himself and offered her more tea to change the subject.

From the other side of the room, Quinn knew her father and aunt had talked about her slave. She couldn't hear them, but she watched as they glimpsed back at her direction. Maybe she wasn't the only one uncomfortable by the girl's presence.

"Rachel, go wait outside." Quinn commanded, with more confidence than she thought she had. Rachel left at once, and Quinn smiled proudly to herself. "How weird is she?" Quinn asked her brother with a grin.

"I didn't find her weird at all," he replied with a frown and a shrug. "She must be upset, she has had a rough day, Quinnie."

"Quinn," she corrected.

"What?"

"I go by Quinn now," she explained, and her brother nodded quietly. "I think I'm gonna tell her to sleep in the kitchen house." Quinn changed the subject, and saw her brother's eyes sparkling. She could almost see the memories behind deep blue eyes. She shook her head, getting them out of her own mind.

"Don't you have a conjoined room behind yours? I think that's its purpose," he explained. She tried to hide how offended she was. She knew what the room was made for. She wasn't dumb.

"I _know_." She nodded. "But I don't feel safe with her sleeping so close."

"Why is that?" He asked curiously.

"Well, she's a slave. I mean, she could kill me in my sleep!" Quinn groaned with a small shiver and a frown of disgust. She could see her brother searching her eyes. She knew what he was trying to find. She looked away.

"Quinni- Quinn," he corrected, clearing his throat. "She wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?" She asked, furrowing eyebrows. "We don't know her. I've heard plenty of stories of slaves killing their masters. It's quite common."

"It's not always like that, Quinn." He shook his head with a sad smile. "Slaves are not mean people."

"What's wrong with you? Defending slaves!" Quinn gulped and bit her lip to avoid another look of disgust. "England has changed you, George."

"No, Quinn," he sighed, bringing her hand to his mouth and dropping a soft kiss. "You have changed. And Lord helps that I never find out who is responsible for that."

He left without saying good night. Quinn couldn't sleep that night.

* * *

Rachel had dreaded the ride to her new house. She didn't feel comfortable at all being in the same carriage as her new masters, and she was afraid of what the future held for her. But she controlled her crying. She knew she would be beaten if she didn't do so. She couldn't control her anger though. She knew the reputation Quinn Fabray had. She remember vividly the day she heard as Quinn Fabray counted the whips that would eventually kill her mother.

She couldn't have had worse fate. She couldn't have had worse owner.

As they left city and Rachel started seeing crops and more crops of sugarcane surrounding her, she reminded of the stories her mother had told her about growing up in a farm. She tried to convince herself it wouldn't be so bad. She tried to be glad she would finally have fields to run free - although she was not free at all. But it had been years since she had last managed to be genuinely happy.

On the top of a hill, it stood. Her new home, with an arch written "Rose Hill" framing it perfectly. Rachel wondered the reason behind the name, when she hadn't seen any roses.

The size of the house made Rachel's mouth fall agape. It was at least ten times bigger than the mansion in the city. She pitied the maids who had to keep that house clean. She couldn't understand why someone would need such a big house - they weren't that big of a family, after all.

Getting inside managed to make her even more astonished. The luxury inside the house could never compare to the mansion. The fabrics of sofas, curtains and rugs smelled like money. They shined and sparkled and Rachel couldn't look at everything at once. She closed her eyes for a second, in an attempt of giving her brain a break.

The table at supper was so long Rachel wasn't sure she could see the end of it. The smell of the so many options of food made her mouth water, and for the first time in her life she questioned her abilities as a cooker. She would need to meet the cooker and ask her for the recipes. Cooking had always been an outlet for her. It reminded her of her mother, and kept her away from the shoutings of Madam Margaret. She had always considered herself good enough at it. Until that day.

Despite her anger, Rachel followed Quinn through the rooms. She despised Quinn since she was a child, but she knew her place as a slave and knew she wouldn't gain anything by acting out on her very first day. If anything, she she owed Madam Margaret to behave. The woman had never been the best missus, but she still gave Rachel everything the girl ever had. So she swallowed her tears, and tried to memorize the disposal of the rooms to make sure she wouldn't get lost when she had to walk through them alone. It wasn't easy though. She lost count after the ninth room that had nothing but sofas. There was just no reason for so many.

Quinn asked her to leave the room where they sat after dinner, and Rachel let out a deep sigh of relief the moment she stepped outside. This was the second worst day of her life, and a moment alone was exactly what she needed. She need time and space to clear her head and decide what she would do with her life from then on.

But her peace didn't last long.

"Rochelle?" Someone called. Rachel recognized Madam Margaret's daughter. The so famous Lady. She bobbed a curtsy, like her mother had taught her, and waited further instructions. She wouldn't have the nerve to correct her name. "Welcome to Rose Hill," she said.

Rachel's heart skipped a beat.


	4. Chapter 4

_Rose Hill, 1778_

When Quinn came out of the bathroom, she could hear mumbling from outside her bedroom door. She still wasn't comfortable with Rachel's constant presence by her side, and had commanded the slave to wait on the hall as she completed her night rituals in the bathroom. She couldn't imagine who the girl would be talking to. Everyone was already asleep, as far as she knew.

Quinn peered her head outside, making sure to make no noise. But there was no one else on the halls. Instead, she found Rachel leaning against the wall with her eyes shut tight, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her heart. She was praying, and for a second Quinn wondered if it would be sinful to interrupt it. Curiosity took over, and she kept herself quiet to find out what she was praying for. But when she heard Rachel mumbling _mother_ , she couldn't help a huff.

Rachel lifted her head and opened her eyes, rolling them when she found Quinn's wry smile by her side. The subtle action hit Quinn, who crossed her arms around her chest and stomped her feet with another huff. Her smile had become an annoyed frown, much like a little spoiled child. Rachel took a deep breath.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, gathering all her strength to be polite like she had been taught instead of just slapping the frown out of her owner's face.

"Yes, there is." Quinn nodded. _But what was it?_ She couldn't define. Something about the girl just… unnerved her. She blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. "How dare you pray for your mother?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Rachel asked, genuinely confused. Both of them noticed the absence of _miss_ in that phrase. Rachel did it on purpose. Quinn didn't know how to apprehend her for it.

"If anything, you should pray for my sweet grandmother who for many years gave you food and shelter," said Quinn, with arrogance slipping from the corners of her mouth without her even realizing. "Your mother, on the other hand, did nothing but make you a slave."

"Do not open your mouth to talk about my mother, _miss_." Rachel defied, taking one step closer to Quinn. Quinn took one back by instinct, and regretted it immediately. This was not how one ascertained dominance. This was not what she had been taught. The sarcastic overtone in Rachel's voice made Quinn boil inside, and before she could think, her flat hand flew across Rachel's face.

Rachel's hand reached her own face where the skin burned from the slap. She had never been slapped in the face before. Madam Margaret had never been the kindest, but she acknowledged Rachel's good work and her few mistakes were punished by the overseer, not by the Madam herself. It took all of Rachel's self-control to not jump on top of the frail blonde girl and rip her jugular apart with her teeth. She could be so easily killed, if Rachel wanted.

Quinn spun around in her heels and entered her room, leaving Rachel still stunned on the hallway. At least no one had heard the commotion. Quinn wouldn't want to wake up her whole family just because she got unlucky to have an insolent slave in her hands.

"What are you waiting for?" Quinn shouted from inside the room and Rachel followed her. Quinn couldn't stand how the girl's chin was always up. "Do your job."

But Rachel stood still. She didn't know what Quinn meant. She didn't know what Quinn wanted. She bit her lip, fearing she would be punished again. And then she bit it harder, with anger, when she realized she was fearing someone like Quinn.

"What do you want me to do, miss?" She asked, briefly closing her eyes. She hated to admit defeat.

"You can't be serious." Quinn snickered. "What do you think you are here for? What did you do at my grandmother's house?"

"I worked on the kitchen, miss. I cooked, served her meals, went to the market for food, washed the di-" Rachel listed, but Quinn cut her short. She was sleepy, and not in the mood to hear the girl rambling.

"Alright, quit talking. I can't stand your voice." Quinn shook her head, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Close the curtains. Pour a glass of water for my nightstand. Prepare my bed. Light up the fireplace. And then leave."

Rachel really didn't know what was expected of her, but once Quinn gave the orders she promptly began to follow them. She not only did what she was demanded, but did so with perfection. She was a fast learner, and she wanted to get that sly smile out of Quinn's face. Quinn wouldn't be able to complain about anything she did. She wouldn't give her that pleasure.

That was until she walked over to the fireplace. She had never set up one. Madam Margaret had always complained about the heat in their city - even on brisk nights. She kneeled by the fireplace and took a deep breath. She would have to figure it out on her own. She had seen other servants doing so, but never paid attention enough to know what to do. She hadn't even lit up the fire in the kitchen - there was always someone to do so for her. And in that moment, she couldn't regret it more.

"What's taking you so long?" Quinn asked, walking to Rachel's side and propping her weight in the fireplace poker.

"I'm sorry miss, I'm doing what I can." Rachel admitted in a growl feeling a tug in her stomach. She didn't know for how long she could keep her hate inside.

"Well, it's not enough. I want to sleep. Get this done with!" Quinn kicked a log that stuck out of the fireplace. The girl couldn't even set the log straight in the holder.

"It will have to be enough, miss." Rachel murmured in her breath with annoyance. Quinn's harassment wouldn't make her back down.

"Oh, you're so defiant. I don't know who you think you are bu-" Quinn snapped out. Rachel watched her face becoming bright red, and chuckled. It was so easy to drive Quinn to the edge.

"I'm not defying anyone, miss." She said nonchalantly, but her smile said it all. Quinn exploded.

"Enough!" She yelled, grabbing the fireplace poker and hitting with it against Rachel's head. Rachel immediately backed down, covering her head with her arms in fear of more strikes. If anything, she was lucky Quinn didn't have really strong arms - but they were strong enough to make Rachel's eyes black out for a second and her head spin. If she was stronger, Rachel could have been dead by then. "You're my slave and you'll respect me whether you want or not!" Quinn flared, throwing the poker on the ground and going to the door. "Dorea!" She shouted. "Dorea!"

"Yes, miss Quinn?" A black woman appeared immediately, wrapping her apron around her waist. One look at her face and Rachel knew Quinn had woken up the poor woman.

"Light up my fireplace." She ordered, pulling the covers from her bed. "And then take this insolent girl to the kitchen house. Find some place for her to sleep there." Quinn said, before turning to Rachel again. "I should make you sleep on the cold hard floor for your insolence. But I'm a kind miss. I hope you grow deserving of my kindness."

The slaves left and Quinn closed her eyes. She could hear her own heart beating, and it had never been so fast. She always lashed out on slaves, but never for so little. She had never felt so _angry_ in her life. She had never felt her stomach upside down like it was then.

And she had definitely never dreamed about a slave before.

* * *

"Hey, Abbie!" Dorea called out from the door, knocking softly before coming in. "Brought you something!" She announced.

Abbie came out one of the rooms, unwrapping a kerchief from her head and running her fingertips through her scalp. Rachel watched as her dark curls fell to her shoulder and smiled. It reminded her of her mother.

"Who's that?" Abbie asked, hands on her waist and the most courteous smile on her face. Rachel smiled back, but lowered her head waiting to be introduced.

"Rachel is her name. She's miss Quinn new slave." Dorea explained, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her inside to sit on a chair. "They're having a hard time getting along so far."

"Oh, miss Quinn can be hard when she wants." Abbie bit her lip sympathetically. "What happened to her head?" She asked, noticing droplets of blood running down her forehead.

"She hit me with the fireplace poker when I couldn't set a fire," Rachel explained. Her cheeks blushed in shame - this wasn't the first impression she wanted to give. She wasn't incompetent.

Abbie wetted a piece of rag and handed it to Rachel, who murmured a thank you before wiping it against her head and crunching up her nose when she felt the swollen bump. It would hurt more once morning came.

"Look, don't be afraid, alright?" Abbie explained once Dorea left. Madam Judy didn't like being left alone and would soon notice her slave's absence. "The Fabrays are not bad people. They treat us well as long as we do as we're told. You just have to obey and you'll be fine." She grabbed Rachel's hand. It was the first time Rachel felt anything warm since she had arrived - besides the usual Caribbean heat.

But Rachel didn't want to obey. She didn't want to be there, and she didn't want to be fine with it. She wanted to come back to her city, where her father would be waiting for her. She wanted to find him and tell him to run away with her. Run away from that island. Run away from the terrible fate that fell upon her. The dark forrest called her out from the windows, and all she wanted to do was answer. But she didn't.

Rachel laid down on her new bed. The mattress was even thinner than her former one and stuffed with corn husks - but after the day she had, it felt like heaven to finally lay down. She wept quietly. In just one day, she had been more humiliated than her whole life. She was alone and desolate and holding back her tears all day hadn't helped. She fell asleep hoping she would find some peace in her dreams.

But instead, she found Quinn.

* * *

"My beautiful daughter!" Russell exclaimed, seeing Quinn by his office door. She usually didn't bother him while he worked, but she saw her mother there too and figured it would be good to have advice from both of them. "Come on in, dear!" He said, tapping his lap.

Quinn walked in smiling and bowing her head just slightly for her mother before sitting on her father's leg. Russell wrapped one arm around Quinn's waist. If it weren't for her father, Quinn would never had received any affection growing up. Her mother could be as cold as ice. Quinn didn't know what would be of her if she didn't have her father.

"Aren't you too old for that, Quinn?" Her mother asked with a small shake of her head.

"She'll always be little girl, Judy!" Russell replied, and Quinn lolled her tongue out for her mother.

"See Russell? That's what happens when you coddle her like that!" Judy whined with a huff. Quinn rolled her eyes, but her father poked her side making her giggle. In his arms, she really was still just a little girl.

"Dear, apologize to your mother, please." He said in the sweetest voice.

"I'm sorry, mother." Quinn said, still giggling with her father. She could watch her mother discontentment about their close relationship - but it was no one's fault but hers. She was the one who never tried to bond with Quinn.

"What did you come here for, Quinn?" Her mother asked, straight to the point as always.

"I need advice." Quinn said with a sigh, killing her last giggles.

"On what, exactly?" Her father asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I don't know how to deal with my slave. She's- She's… Defiant!" Quinn felt rage settling inside of her just from mentioning the girl. "I feel like she doesn't take me seriously because she's the same age as me. I need you to teach me how to deal with her." She finally asked, taking a deep breath to contain her nerves. Her mother raised a curious eyebrow, and answered her before her father could manage to open his mouth.

"Quinn, you know what you have to do to gain her respect. You've watched us enough to know how to do so. You're simply being a coward." Her mother said harshly. "I thought we had raised you better."

The disappoint in her voice didn't affect Quinn, but when she didn't hear her father disagreeing her heart stopped. She looked over to catch hesitant eyes - but if he had a different opinion, he didn't voice it. Quinn wasn't sure how, but she would gain Rachel's respect. She wouldn't disappoint her father.

* * *

"I use a different recipe for the crust, but I think yours turns out much better. It looks more buttery!" Rachel said, subtly licking her lips and handing a piece of batter for Abbie. "I think it would be perfect if you added a little bit of cinnamon!"

"Oh, so there she is!" Quinn sneered, coming into the kitchen house with her face flushed in anger. "What are you doing here? I've been calling you for _hours_." In fact, it had been just a little more than five minutes. Quinn was known for exaggerating, but Rachel didn't need to know.

"I'm sorry miss Quinn, I was talking with Abbie and didn't hear you calling." Rachel replied with a roll of eyes, wiping the flour of her hands on her apron.

"Abigail, would you make me an apple pie? I'm craving it, and I'm hungry because my servant is rather useless." Quinn couldn't let the opportunity for a snarky comment to slip.

"Yes, miss Quinn." Abbie nodded with a smile, already turning around to fetch the ingredients.

"See? She's prettier than you and knows how to hold her tongue." Quinn said with a small chuckle, nudging her head towards Abbie. Rachel gulped. Quinn grabbed a knife from the countertop and banged it against the wooden table. The knife stood straight up, and the whole table shook. "Next time I call you and you don't answer, I'll come get you by the ear. And then I'll cut it off."

Rachel shivered. It wasn't the first time she had heard a threaten like that, and she knew well how Fabrays were known for keeping promises. The forest outside screamed her name. She couldn't stay there long enough to see if Quinn was like grandmother or not.

* * *

"What is Dorea doing here?" Judy asked, peeking her head inside of Quinn's room. Quinn propped up her weight in her elbows and lifted her body from the bed, watching as the slave set the fireplace again.

"My slave is dumb and useless, mother. She doesn't know how to light up the fireplace." Quinn answered with a deep sigh of annoyance. Her mother gave one of her rare smiles, and leaned against the door frame.

"Dorea, teach her how to do so. You are suppose to stay in my room, not in here." Judy commanded and Dorea nodded, whispering a _yes madam_ almost inaudible. "Is she any better?" Judy asked, regarding their afternoon conversation.

"Hardly. She's awful, mother, really." Quinn groaned, burying herself deeper in bed.

"She'll get the hang of this house eventually. Or we'll get her a little lesson." Judy replied, and Quinn nodded. "Where is she, by the way?"

"Probably in her bed already." Quinn shrugged. "I sent her off because I couldn't stand to look at her face any longer."

Judy chuckled and left. Quinn never waited for a goodnight. She knew better.

* * *

Rachel had only been there for one day, but she had always been observant. She had already realized the kitchen house had no security at all during the night. No one watched their sleep from outside. They were probably busy taking care of the quarters down the hill, or maybe they just trusted Abbie too much.

She had also spent a lot of time in the halls, since Quinn wouldn't want her inside the rooms with her. Lucky for her, most of the windows in the halls faced the backyard. With a higher view she could see perfectly how the forest that began right behind the house extended as far as her eyes could see.

Rachel knew it was dangerous. She knew what she could face if they found her. But there was no way she could put up with the life they wanted her to lead there. She was never happy as a slave, but only now she realized how much better she had it at Madam Margaret's house. Quinn was arrogant, insulting and downright mean.

Yet, she moved Rachel in a way she had never experienced. Her whole body shook from anger and her guts told her to run. The memories of Quinn in her childhood tore Rachel from the inside out, and still she dreamed about Quinn. And before she could get even deeper in trouble, she decided to end it all.

Abbie fell asleep.

And Rachel slipped out of the window.


	5. Chapter 5

_Rose Hill, 1778_

Rachel ran as fast as she could. She closed her eyes and ran forward, afraid of looking back and seeing someone following her. It was just like her mother had told her. Running free through enormous fields, with the fresh air blowing in your face and your heart beating for a reason.

She didn't know where she would go next. She didn't know how she would manage to survive in the forest until she found a way out. But she believed whole-heartedly that dying free was better than living as a slave. As Quinn's slave, to be exact.

The forest became denser as she moved, and soon enough she couldn't run anymore. The darkness didn't help at all, and she was suddenly too conscious of every tiny noise around her - it would be just ridiculous to go through all of that trouble and then end up dying with a snake bite.

But she should have known better.

Her mother had always told her: a slave's happiness only lasts a second. She was too familiar with that sound - she had waited for it every Sunday morning. A horse was coming, and if she could guess she would say the chances of it being a wild horse were very low.

"I'm gonna stop you right there, young lady!" She heard.

She didn't even have a chance to hide. She thought of running - if she was fast enough maybe he would lose her. But when she heard the noise of the gun being cocked, she knew she had no chance. She turned around in surrender and the man in the horse came closer.

"Did you really think you were the only one who thought about running away through the forests?" He asked with a snort. "I swear to God, you slaves are getting dumber and dumber with each generation."

Rachel lowered her head. She really should have thought it better. Planned it better. If she had taken her time, this wouldn't have happened.

She deserved the death that certainly awaited her when she arrived back at the farm.

* * *

"Miss Quinn," Dorea called. Quinn's eyes flashed open.

From all the slaves she thought would kill her in her sleep, Dorea would be the last one.

"What is it, Dorea?" She asked when Dorea took a step back and she was able to shake such incoherent thoughts from her head.

"Rachel ran away," she blurted out. Quinn growled, resting her head in her hands and rubbing her eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be angry or relieved. Maybe it was just sleepiness blurring her judgements. Or maybe it wasn't _just_ sleepiness. "Malcolm found her while roaming through the forests. They're waiting for you in the backyard."

Quinn was glad to find her father already up and in the dining room having breakfast when she came down the stairs. Never in her life she felt as grown up as the moment she realized her father still hadn't heard about the matter - they had told _her_ before telling him.

"What do I do with her?" She asked, taking a bite of her papaya. She was taking her sweet time - she knew how torturous it would be for Rachel to wait for a decision on her destiny.

"Well Quinn, the customary punishment for a runaway slave is to cut off one of her foot." He explained carefully. She knew by his tone of voice this wasn't what he would recommend, but he confirmed her doubts. "But in reality it's up to you."

"I don't think that would be good. She would become even more useless than she already is." Quinn thought, chewing slowly on her food. She had an idea on the back of her mind ever since she woke up, but she wasn't sure her father would agree. "What if I brand her?"

"Really?" Russell asked, and Quinn nodded. "We haven't done that in a long time," he answered, scratching his head. Quinn bit her lip. "It's not really that effective. It won't stop them if they really want to run away again."

"Well yeah, but if she did it would be easier to find her, wouldn't it?" Quinn asked. She didn't really think it would be enough to convince her father, but honestly, she didn't think Rachel would attempt to run away again. Besides, something inside her twitched thinking of Rachel's skin burning with her name, and she buried her nails in her hands to contain herself.

"Perhaps you're right. It's your choice, dear. Sadly I have some business to deal with today and won't be able to stay for it, but I trust your judgement. Go with your guts."

And oh, her guts wanted it.

* * *

Rachel awaited. She didn't think she would cry, but when she was told what Quinn decided she felt a shy tear slipping out. She had flirted with death enough times to feel comfortable with the idea, but to carry in her body the initials of someone she hated so fiercely was by far the worst punishment she could receive.

Kneeled on the grass with a rope around her neck, she watched as Malcolm - the overseer that had caught her - filled a brazier with hot coals. It was just out of her reach, on purpose. They didn't know how much pride she had inside. They didn't know she would take her punishment without flinching. Anything to make sure Quinn didn't get the satisfaction of watching her suffering.

Someone she didn't recognize molded the branding iron to form a perfect Q and F. Rachel hadn't eaten in a while, but she could still feel something rising from her stomach. She was strong, though. She had always been. Malcolm pushed the iron into the coals to heat it up and Rachel watched a smile creeping into Quinn's lips.

"Stand up, girl." The man said, tapping her shoulder. "You don't wanna choke."

He knew nothing. Choking herself to death sounded way better than her eminent destiny - especially considering how that would ruin Quinn's moment. But she stood up. If she made it out alive, it would be for a purpose. She would torment the hell out of Quinn's life.

Rachel heard the noise of the metal getting out of the basket, and held herself against the wooden pole. She couldn't let Quinn see the shiver that ran through her body. She felt rough hands pulling down the sleeve of her gown, and swallowed hard.

Don't yell. Don't cry. Don't give her what she wants.

Rachel locked her eyes with Quinn. The burning iron hissed against the skin of her back, just below her right shoulder, and she felt the fire going straight into her eyes. She knew Quinn saw it. She saw Quinn gulping. The man pushed the iron harder against her skin, and she felt it bubbling. The smell was terrible, and she had to swallow bile once more. Quinn walked to her.

"Don't fake it. I know it hurts. You're mine, and now you won't ever forget it - even if you want." She hissed, before turning on her feet and getting inside.

Oh, it hurted. She wanted to growl and run and throw her body at the river. But at the same time, she felt her legs giving out. And it pained her to know it was more due to the anger in Quinn's voice, than to the physical pain.

* * *

"What is wrong with you?" George stormed into her room, making Quinn stumble in startle and drop the book she was reading.

"Me?! What is wrong with _you_?" She asked with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the book from the floor. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew her brother was slow to anger and if he had walked into the room like _that_ she was definitely in trouble.

"You _branded_ Rachel?" He asked. Quinn swallowed hard. _Not me, I just commanded it_. She knew her brother wouldn't laugh, but her silence spoke for her. "Quinn, you are sick."

"Sick?" She scoffed. "George, I was suppose to cut her foot off. I did her a favor! She ran away from me!"

She wouldn't mention how she felt her whole body melting as Rachel's skin did. There was no reason to. It's not like her brother would understand, anyway.

"Quinn, you have no idea how degrading that is. How much it hurts!" He reasoned, sitting on the chair by her side and grabbing her hand. She felt an urge to pull it back, but she didn't want to hurt him like that. "You don't have to do what people tell you, Quinn. She only ran because you were being awful to her. Why are you being like that?"

"George, I don't know what you saw and learned in England but this is how things are over here! It has always been like that and I can't be the one to change it. If she disrespects me, I have to punish her. It's only logical. How else would she learn?"

"You could reward her for doing what you need, Quinn. That's how it's suppose to be. She wouldn't run from you and she would respect you as person, and not because she has to or because she fears you," he replied.

"But I want her to fear me!" Quinn leaned forward, nodding vigorously. "It's- It's enthralling, George! You should have seen her eyes while they branded her! She's crazy! It was almost like she was enjoying it!"

George was the one to pull his hand back. He shook his head, and Quinn knew she had scared him. She didn't mean to share so much, but he was pushing her. She couldn't see what she did as wrong. She wouldn't feel bad for it. In fact, she wanted more.

She would do anything to see Rachel back down.

"Quinn, your tutor is here," Judy knocked on the door. "Don't keep him waiting again, it's not polite."

* * *

Rachel whimpered in the kitchen as Abbie changed the wet rag from her scar. She shut her eyes tight and tried not to curse as the cold water hit her skin. It felt like she was being burned all over again. In fact, it felt worse now that she didn't have to proof a point for Quinn.

Out of nowhere, Abbie stood up from the chair and bowed her head, bringing Rachel back from her thoughts. Rachel furrowed her eyebrows and chuckled confused, only turning around when Abbie jerked her head towards the door.

Lady Angeline.

Rachel stood up and bowed her head too. She didn't know she had to, but she mimicked Abbie before she could get in further trouble.

"You can sit down," said Lady Angeline with a chuckle and a dismissive wave of hand. "How is it healing?" She asked, looking at Rachel's shoulder.

"I'm not sure, lady. I never treated a burning so bad like this one," Abbie answered.

"May I take a look?" She asked, slender fingers resting on the edge of the edge of Rachel's gown. Rachel shivered, but nodded. No one had ever asked for permission before touching her. Lady Angeline pulled down the sleeve, and sucked her bottom lip when she saw the scar.

"Is it too bad? Is it infected, lady?" She questioned apprehensively.

"Can I get some water?" Lady Angeline asked Abbie, before turning to Rachel. "Is not infected. It's burnt deep, but it will heal." She dipped her finger in water and ran its tip softly along the letters, getting tiny threads of the rag away. Rachel bit her tongue hard, and felt blood flooding her mouth. It hurt too badly - but she was quiet. "You're strong, I would be crying by now." Lady Angeline complimented with a smile, and Rachel blushed.

"Do you want a clean rag?" Abbie asked, breaking the moment before it could even start.

"No," she answered shaking her head. "It will heal better with the air. Here, I brought you this." She said, grabbing a tiny box from her pocket. She opened it and Rachel scrunched up her nose at the mint scent. "It will feel terrible, but should you spread a thin layer over it, it will heal faster."

"Thank you, milady." Rachel whispered, bowing her head with a shy smile. She had no idea why she felt so timid and nervous around the woman. Lady Angeline dismissed her gratitude and stood up to leave.

"Abigail, let me know if it gets bad, will you?"

She didn't leave until Abbie agreed. And for once, Rachel felt protected.

* * *

Rachel was angry. She was furious and in pain and honestly, she was bitter Quinn had read her so well during her branding. But she was still a servant, and now, more than never, she needed to behave as one, at least temporary - she couldn't endure another punishment in such short time. Quinn would get what she deserved, but Rachel would take her time to plan it well.

Quinn rang the bell, ordering Rachel to come up to her room and help her into her ballet clothing, but once Rachel arrived Quinn was already dressed. Besides the fact it was cut short just a few inches above her ankle, it didn't differ at all from Quinn's other gowns, but still - Rachel choked on air.

She looked like a dream. Maybe it was the different shades of pink, or the embroidery along the sleeves, or even the way it hugged Quinn's body perfectly. It was everything Rachel could ever want in a gown. One she could never - and would never have.

Upon her arrival, Quinn sat on a chair and pointed at her shoes. They didn't exchange one single word. Rachel was impressed by how Quinn could dismiss everything that had happened earlier in the day and go on as if nothing happened, but once she kneeled to help her owner with her shoes, she knew Quinn was not done.

Quinn planned every action beforehand. It wasn't a mere coincidence that she was already fully dressed except for her shoes - she wanted Rachel to kneel by her feet. It was submissive, humiliating and Quinn loved every second of it.

Rachel tied the ribbons on top of Quinn's feet, stealing glances to watch Quinn's delicate and hail fingers fixing her hair up in a perfect bun. There wasn't one stray hair strand, and as she left for her dancing classes Rachel felt compelled to follow her.

Quinn spun around the room on the arms of her tutor with more grace than Rachel could ever describe. If someone had told her, she would never believe the elegant ballerina in front of her was the same one to beckon such atrocities upon her. Rachel was light-headed already and the song wasn't even close to its climax. She had no idea how Quinn could dance with such agility and manage to breath all at the same time.

None of them could tell when it happened, but their eyes locked again. They weren't the same eyes Quinn had seen on that morning. Quinn's face tensed up - but she quickly reminded herself to recompose. It was unsettling. The eyes that held so much anger in the morning, now looked at her with utter adoration.

And Quinn didn't know which one she liked the best.


	6. Chapter 6

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

Quinn sat still as Rachel ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted Dorea to do so, but her mother had called for her and Quinn was left with either getting it done by Rachel or do it herself - and she could never figure it out how to make the back of her head look good without being able to see it.

Besides, she looked forward to Rachel's next mistake - although her hair looked better than she would ever admit. Rachel had wooven it in a crown braid and even though it looked neat and tight, it didn't make her head hurt like when Dorea did it. Her smile grew a little too wide, but she shut it before Rachel could see it. Disappointment washed over when she realized Rachel had managed to go through her morning tasks with perfection. Quinn needed to see the anger in her eyes again.

Instead, _she_ was the enraged one that time, and knowing she had no reason to unleash it on Rachel made her want to growl.

But that's when she saw it.

A crumble, resting right on the corner of Rachel's mouth. A wry smile came into her lips, and Rachel gulped taking a step back. Quinn knew it was an instinct and not the fear she wanted Rachel to feel, but she was satisfied nonetheless. She took a step forward, and watched Rachel's eyes twitching. She could try to hide her feelings all she wanted, but Quinn had spent too many years mastering how to read them. Rachel would never be as good at concealing them as Quinn's mother was. Her eyes were all Quinn had to really know what was inside her mother's head, and she became excellent at doing so. After that, reading Rachel was nothing but easy.

Rachel closed her eyes when Quinn reached out her hand, and Quinn stopped for a second. It wasn't what she expected - Rachel wasn't the one to avoid confrontation. Rachel shivered under Quinn's touch, and Quinn watched as she fluttered her eyes open and let anger come to them. _There it is_. The look she missed.

"What is this?" Quinn asked without a blink, knowing her coldness would unsettle Rachel. The girl didn't respond and instead, looked down. _No_. She couldn't admit defeat so easily. She _had_ to fight. "Answer me!" Quinn demanded, grabbing the hair on the back of Rachel's neck with a full fist and raising her head so their eyes would meet. And there it was again.

"Apple pie, miss Quinn," Rachel answered. Her eyes sparkled just as bright as Quinn remembered. They held fire to burn the whole farm down. Quinn slapped her cheek, not letting go of her hair. A small moan slipped out of Rachel's mouth, and Quinn was taken aback. Her heart raced, but she breathed deeply and pulled Rachel's hair tighter.

"Who allowed you to eat it?" Quinn demanded to know. Rachel closed her eyes again, giving space for another smile to come to Quinn's lips.

"No one, miss Quinn. I grabbed the scraps you left in your plate last night."

Quinn scoffed and slapped her again, but no moan came out. She furrowed her eyebrow and hit her face again, harder. Rachel's cheeks burned pink and her jaw quivered in rage - but she didn't react. Quinn grabbed her by the chin, pressing her cheeks together and making her lips pop out. "You are not to eat my food. Not even the scraps. I would rather give it to the dogs than to you," Quinn said, pausing between each word.

Rachel took a deep breath, and Quinn could see it was taking all she had to stay in her place. Her stomach flipped, and she let go of Rachel by shoving her away.

"Get out now," Quinn said, turning around to sit back on her chair as if nothing had happened. But once Rachel left, she leaned against the dressing table and laughed quietly to herself. Her hands shook and her heart raced. She found herself relying on Rachel's anger to feel alive - and it was better than anything she had ever felt.

* * *

"Come girl," Dorea called, pulling Rachel back in the kitchen house. "Lou Lee will teach you how to tie their stays and corsets. I can't keep doing it for you every morning, it bothers Madam Judy."

"I'm Rachel," she said, reaching out her hand to the other slave. Lou Lee was just about her age, and the physical resemblance left no doubts for Rachel that she was Dorea's daughter.

"Hello, Rachel," she replied, dismissing Rachel's hand as she efficiently untied the laces on her own back. She turned around and Rachel gulped. She had no idea how to do it. "Don't panic, it looks harder than it is." Lou Lee giggled. "Start with the top ones and pull them tightly, like this." She showed Rachel. The fact that she couldn't see what she was doing didn't seem to trouble her at all.

"How's Miss Quinn treating you now?" Abbie asked, sitting by Dorea. Rachel had a break between breakfast and lunch, and she learned to seize those moments. It was the only time she had a voice and could talk openly about whatever she wanted - no judgements or punishments.

"Terribly, like always. She slapped me several times this morning." Rachel rolled her eyes, moving her fingers through the ribbons as she spoke.

"Oh, you messed up her hair!" Dorea exclaimed, her hands flying straight to cover her open mouth.

"No, no! She actually seemed quite pleased about her hair!" Rachel corrected, shaking her head.

"Wait, I think you pulled the wrong one. You should pull this one first!" Lou Lee explained, grabbing a stray lace.

"Oh, sorry!" Rachel apologized, letting go of the one she was holding.

"No, you're doing fine," Lou Lee encouraged with a vigorous nod. "Just try tying it tighter!"

"Why did she slap you, then?" Abbie asked, bringing back the previous conversation. Dorea leaned forward across the table. Rachel had recently realized how much the women in there liked to gossip.

"She found a crumble of apple pie on my face." Rachel admitted under her breath. Abbie shook her head while Dorea and Lou Lee chuckled. Even their laughter sounded similar.

"I told you, you shouldn't have eaten it, Rachel." Abbie sighed. "You need to be more careful. You can't keep being punished all the time!"

"I know, I know. It was my fault, I should have washed my face," Rachel shrugged. "How is it?" She asked, turning Lou Lee around for Abbie and Dorea to see the lacing.

"It's good. Yeah, it's okay." Dorea said. Abbie nodded.

The lack of enthusiasm in their voices said otherwise, and Rachel wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect.

"No, let me try again!" She said, loosening the ribbons and smiling with Lou Lee's giggle.

* * *

The Fabrays enjoyed supper with small lulls between the casual conversation. Behind them, standing by the wall, were Dorea, Rachel, Russell's valet and a lady's maid for Lady Angeline. George, as usual, had dismissed his servant. The others, on the other hand, were ready to serve in case any of the family members needed anything.

"When will you be leaving?" Quinn asked, placing her fork down to turn and face her aunt. Judy giggled - clearly Quinn wasn't the only one to be bothered by the lady's presence, although she didn't know why her aunt her mother so much.

"Quinn, that's not polite. Please, apologize," Russell intervened, after clearing his throat subtly and faking a smile.

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't mean to offend, I was merely curious," said Quinn, with a grin that wouldn't fool anyone.

"It's fine." Lady Angeline said, grabbing another bite of meat and taking her time to chew before answering. In the mean time, Quinn saw her eyes glancing up, and followed her gaze to see where it lead. _Rachel_. "I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I have business to run in America," she said, for Quinn's relief. "But I might come back more often now, after such a delightful stay."

Quinn choked on her food and coughed hard. She did not want that woman to become a frequent guest. Rachel came to help her, giving a small tap on Quinn's back, but Quinn winced from her touch. George rose from his seat, ready to use his medical knowledge to help his sister.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Quinn shook her head, bringing a napkin to her mouth and giving a small smile to reassure everyone present. The clatter of the silverware replaced their voices, and Quinn realized she would rather dine in silence than to submit herself to another situation like the previous one.

"You could come with me, if you wanted, dear niece." Lady Angeline offered, and Russell's eyebrows shot up. "It would do you well. Look at George, how England was good for him."

"Oh, I think she's fine here." Russell intervened again. Quinn breathed out nervously. "I'm teaching her how to run this farm. She has a good hand."

Lady Angeline nodded in agreement, before George interrupted the conversation. He was clearly not paying any attention to what they were saying - or at least Quinn liked to believe her brother wouldn't let her go so easily.

"Quinn, have you been feeding this girl?" He asked, pointing to Rachel. Quinn giggled, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Can't she eat by herself? She's not a baby, by all means!" Quinn shook her head with a confused smile, tearing a piece of cornbread.

"She's lost a lot of weight since she came in here, and she won't stop looking at our food. Father, she's not being fed." George said, turning to his father. Quinn felt betrayed. George should have sought her for that instead of taking the matter for her father in front of everyone else.

"This is my fault. I didn't recall to mention that to her." Russell shook his head to himself, sighing before turning to Quinn. "Dear, they're not allowed to simply grab food. You're supposed to establish her share of food for the week and then give it for Abigail."

"You can't starve her to death, Quinn!" George snapped. "You have to give her enough food to stay alive, at least!" Quinn gasped. _She hadn't done it on purpose!_

"George, calm down." Russell said. Quinn thanked him mentally. "I said it's my fault. I'll talk to you more about that tomorrow, dear. Don't worry." He grabbed Quinn's hand, comforting her. She nodded quietly.

Her brothers accusations hurt her more than she liked to admit to herself.

"She still has a lot to learn before she takes charge of the farm," Judy pointed out. Quinn wasn't sure if her mother was taking her or George's side.

"Well, the girl shouldn't wait until tomorrow, should her?" Lady Angeline asked, grabbing a spare glass. "Come here." She said. Rachel complied immediately and Quinn frowned. She wasn't suppose to obey other people - _she was supposed to obey Quinn_! Lady Angeline poured fresh milk into the glass, and handed it to Rachel.

Judy and Russell watched astonished. George watched with a smile on his face. And Quinn would rather not have watched at all.

The gratitude in Rachel's eyes made she want to barf.

"May I be excused? I'm not feeling well." Quinn whispered, shoving her napkin on the table and getting up when her father nodded.

She was out of the room in a blink.

* * *

Rachel was sweeping the kitchen floor when Lady Angeline came in. Abigail had gone to sleep, and Rachel had no idea how she was suppose to behave - so she froze. The Fabrays never came into the kitchen, Abigail had told her. She shivered, assuming Lady Angeline had called and not been answered, like Quinn had a few days before.

"I'm sorry, milady, did you need anything?" She said, clutching to the broom in her hands.

"Oh, no. Everything is perfect. I just came to say goodbye and check on your scar before I left." She said casually, pulling a chair and sitting as comfortable as if she were in the dinning room from the mansion.

Rachel was bewildered. She had never seen a white woman so gentle and cordial towards a slave. She sat on the next chair, and Lady Angeline caught her eyes silently asking for permission to touch her again. Rachel nodded shyly, and the woman pulled her sleeve to see the scar.

"It's healing very well. Soon enough it won't hurt to clean anymore." She said, running her fingers along the edge of the scar. Rachel caught her breath nervously. She had been in situations like this enough to know where it lead. "It was nice meeting you," she whispered.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, milady." Rachel replied out of politeness.

"You're very well-mannered for a slave." Lady Angeline said, reaching for Rachel's lips. She closed her eyes, like she had when Quinn did the same in that morning. But her touch didn't burn like Quinn's did.

It didn't melt her either.

Rachel felt lips lingering above her own and a warm breath just too close to her face. She shut her eyes tighter. This couldn't be happening. She was a woman. She was a _lady_. Yet, she felt lips slipping into her own without hesitation. Her stomach turned sick, and she pulled away avoiding Lady Angeline's eyes.

"I will come back soon." Lady Angeline said, getting up and pushing the chair under the table. "And next time, I'll take you home with me."

* * *

"Feeling any better, little sister?" George asked, leaning against the door frame of Quinn's room. Quinn groaned under her breath and turned in bed, to face him.

"Please, George." She shook her head. "I'm not in the mood to take any more accusations from your part."

"I believe we must talk," he said, pulling a chair closer to Quinn's bed. In older times, he would have slipped under the covers with her and caressed her hair as they talked. But they weren't children anymore.

"I don't see why," Quinn replied. She felt guilty being so hostile to her brother, but she was still hurt. "We've talked enough about this matter and we can't seem to come to an agreement. I would rather you just respected my opinions as I do with yours, instead of making me ashamed in front of the whole family during supper. You should have come to _me_ instead."

"I didn't mean to," said George. Quinn could see truth behind his eyes, but she didn't understand his reasons. It didn't hurt any less. "I just don't understand why you've changed so much, Quinn. You were so generous as a child. I don't know what happened to you."

"You are right. You have no idea what happened to me." Quinn sat up. She had held herself enough, and he was pushing too far. It was no surprise she was about to explode. "You have no idea how much of a hell on Earth was to grow up with mother behind me at all times, molding me to be and behave exactly as she wanted to. You don't know how it was when I wouldn't receive any praise even if I had done things right. You don't understand how painful it was to hear over and over again, from her own mouth, that no matter what I did I would never be better than Frannie, I would never replace Frannie and she would never love me as much as she loved Frannie."

"I'm sor-" George tried, but Quinn cut him off.

"I'm not done." She raised one finger, and he obliged. "The first thing I did once I learned how to write, was to write you a letter. And I wrote several along the years, but I never got any answers. Eventually I found out mother intercepted my mail, to make sure we wouldn't keep in touch. She didn't want anyone intervening on how she raised me. You'll never understand how lonely I was, for as far as I can remember. Maybe if you've been there, you'd understand. You'd understand why I was so happy when I was told I would get a slave of my own."

"You are right about that. I'm sorry mother was always so awful to you, but that's not my fault Quinn." Quinn gasped, and he quickly corrected himself. "I'm not saying it's your fault either. It's no one's fault but her own, who could never deal with losing Frannie. But that's no excuse for the way you're treating Rachel. Nothing of that is her fault either!"

"George, you say as if I was being horrible to her!" Quinn scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm simply teaching her how to be a servant! I'm not doing anything absurd!"

"Quinn, is that what your _heart_ tells you? Or is it what someone else told you?" He questioned, leaning forward and closer to her bed. She felt attempted to scoot further away from him.

"I don't have a heart anymore. It didn't do me any good." She replied with a hurtful laugh, but felt pressured to answer George's question upon his silence. "She's a slave, George. She's used to it. They all are! They are hardly humans in the first place."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" George asked incredulous. Quinn frowned and shrunk on bed. "You complain so much about mother, and yet you sound exactly like her, Quinn."

"Don't you dare…" She whispered, looking deep in his eyes as tears pooled in her own.

"It's true, and it hurts because you know it. We both know that's not what you think," he sighed, and then threw his last card. The one Quinn never expected he would throw in her face. "Don't you remember Mama Minda?"

"I don't like talking about her," she replied coldly. It hurt too much. It would always hurt.

"See? You know she was a human. You're lying to yourself if you say otherwise." They fell in silence for a minute. Quinn had no way neither did want to refute that statement. "Just look at Rachel, Quinn. Look deep inside her, and ask yourself what sets you two apart. You're smart. I know you will find your answers."

And with that, he left her bedroom.

Little did he know all she had done since Rachel arrive was look deep into her eyes. And that instead of finding answers, she just found herself more confused than ever.

* * *

Lou Lee ironed the bed sheets and passed them on to Rachel, who folded them. Rachel had dismissed most of Lou Lee's attempts at engaging a conversation. She hadn't slept all night and simply couldn't stop thinking about what happened the night before.

Many men in her life had kissed her and even done… other _stuff_ to her. But Lady Angeline, she was a _woman_! Rachel didn't know what to think of it. Sure, Lady Angeline had been more tender and careful with her - which was good. But had she enjoyed it? _Was it a sin if she had_? She was almost sure it was.

"Now, tell me what's going on in that head of yours." Lou Lee teased, poking her side. Rachel grow fonder of her at each conversation - it was just easy to be by her side. Rachel could enjoy a little easiness in her so bumpy life.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just hungry, I guess." Rachel shrugged, letting out the first excuse that came into her mouth.

"We'll eat in a few." Lou Lee nodded sympathetically. "But I know it's not that. Quit lying to me!"

Rachel thought about it. She would drive herself crazy keeping this to herself - and Lou Lee really was the one she trusted the most in the house so far. They had the same age, Rachel was sure Lou Lee had faced at least a little of the same struggles she went through. They could confide in each other. Or so Rachel hoped.

"Alright, do you promise not to tell anyone?" Rachel asked, setting down the sheet to look deep in her eyes.

"Oh, that must be good!" Lou Lee beamed. "Cross my heart and hope to die!"

"Lady Angeline kissed me." She whispered in Lou Lee's ear. The girl dropped the heavy clothes iron from her hand, making a startling noise. Rachel gulped and grabbed it quickly, afraid the heat could set the wooden floor on fire.

"What happened?" Abbie shouted from the kitchen.

"Nothing Abbie, we're fine. It was just an accident!" Rachel shouted back, trembling. Lou Lee grabbed her arm and pulled her to the cellar pantry, where no one would be able to hear them.

"Tell me everything!" She asked, and Rachel did. "Was it good?" Lou Lee asked, before anything else.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about that for a while now." Rachel shrugged again. She didn't want Lou Lee to make a big deal out of it - it made her even more nervous than she already was. "It was different. Softer than boys. But…"

"But what?" Lou Lee asked. She was a ball of energy, and Rachel could barely keep up.

"I don't know. I never really enjoyed kissing anyone," Rachel admitted with a sigh.

"Oh…" Lou Lee whispered, with a sympathetic pout. "Well, can I tell you a secret too?"

"Yes, Lou," Rachel said with a giggle. Lou Lee might have been the best gift this house had brought her.

"I think I'm in love with Bernie!" She whispered, hiding her blushing cheeks behind her hands.

"From the quarters?!" Rachel asked in a squeal. Lou Lee nodded. "Tell me!"

For the first time, Rachel felt like a normal fifteen years old girl. She thanked Lou Lee for taking her mind elsewhere - but she knew this was far from an end.


	7. Chapter 7

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

Quinn rang the bell as she woke up, and a second later Rachel was by her door. After a few weeks, Rachel had learned the time Quinn was suppose to wake up and always made sure to be ready when she was needed. Serving Quinn was still one of her greatest nightmares and she looked forward to day Quinn would pay for how she treated her - but until that day, she was better off avoiding further punishments.

"Good morning, miss Quinn." Rachel whispered as she entered the room. Quinn never answered.

Rachel set the tray with Quinn's breakfast at her nightstand - Quinn would rather eat in her room when her father left early in the morning for business - and walked over to open the curtains. Quinn closed her eyes with a groan when the sun rays breached into the room. Rachel smirked. Even the small infliction of pain in Quinn's face made her joyful.

While Quinn ate, Rachel waited silently by the door. She avoided looking at Quinn by all costs, but sometimes she couldn't avoid it - even if just by the corner of her eyes. She watched as Quinn tore the bread apart, with a look of pure disgust in her face before shoving it to the side of her tray and deciding to settle for the fruits instead. If Rachel had ever reacted to food in that way, her mother would have swatted her bottom.

Once Quinn was done, she would sit in the dressing table where Rachel would brush and fix her hair. She wasn't the one to brag, but she had become quite skillful at managing the blond locks and was even able to enjoy running her fingers through such smooth hair. When Quinn was pleased with her looks - which could take a minute or hours, depending on her mood - she would enter the dressing room to change while Rachel took her breakfast tray outside.

Rachel was already waiting for her again when Quinn came out of the dressing room, and it was when her torture began everyday. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't catch the way of tying the laces of Quinn's stays right or tight enough.

"It's loose. Undo it and start it all over again or I'll slap you in the face!" Quinn would say, again and again. It was Quinn's favorite way of punishing her, and Rachel had found her face to growing numb to it but Quinn soon realized it, and started slapping her harder.

Rachel liked routine. She felt it to be reassuring and thrived under it. But clearly, Quinn didn't. Every morning she would find a new way to push Rachel out of her morning good mood and enrage her - it was almost as if she took pleasure on seeing Rachel losing control of herself. Quinn harassed her, she learned how to control herself, Quinn harassed her harder - until she blew up. She didn't think this would ever stop, and she was probably right.

"Excuse me, miss," said Dorea, stopping by Quinn's bedroom door.

"Good morning, Dorea," Quinn greeted. Rachel knew she did it on purpose - greeting everyone but her. Dorea bowed her head softly.

"Your tutor has arrived. Your mother told me to remind you that you are not to be late once again."

"I wouldn't, Dorea, if this hopeless wench of mine was able to tie one simple knot properly!" Quinn sneered.

"I can do that, miss," said Dorea, approaching them.

"No!" Rachel snapped. Dorea took one step back, and Quinn smiled. She _definitely_ took pleasure on it. Rachel breathed in. "I can do it, Dorea, you won't be needed. Thank you."

Quinn's smile faded. Dorea left, and Rachel grabbed the two loose ends of the ribbon. She closed her eyes and on the back of her eyelids she could watch everything she hated about Quinn. She could watch every single atrocity Quinn had put her through. And with all the furor inside her body, she pulled the ribbon. Quinn's spine snapped and she gasped.

"Is this tight enough, miss Quinn?" She asked, her voice as mockery as it could get.

Quinn ignored her and left. It felt better than any approval.

* * *

Quinn walked into the library, where her tutor waited for her, and was followed by Rachel. She didn't look back, but once she sat down she was able to see the look in Rachel's face. Quinn could bet the girl had never entered a library, as her mouth fell agape.

"Good morning, Mr. Henn," said Quinn. "I apologize for my delay. I had some… _inconveniences_ this morning."

"You're pardoned, miss Quinn." He fixed his round glasses up on his nose, and retrieved a book from the bag sitting near him. "I assume you have for once read your recommended literature?" Quinn knew he was doubting her. Given, she wasn't the most avid reader. But this particular book had annoyed her to no end. Most of the books he recommended did so.

"As a matter of fact, I did read it. The Sorrows of Young Werther, by Goethe," she said, going straight to the book in question among all the others. "Unfortunately, I have to tell you I absolutely despised it though." He rose an eyebrow. "And I'm afraid I couldn't finish it."

"And why is that, miss Quinn?" He chuckled. She hated how he acted like this was expected. One day she would read the whole book, just to catch him surprised.

"Mr. Henn, the protagonist of this piece is _dreadful_." Her tutor choked on air, as if she had deeply offended him. "I simply can't stand the way he talks about unrequited love. In fact, I'm not even sure I would call it love - it was more of an obsession. I have a feeling the whole matter could be solved if someone had just slapped him back into his senses."

"I take you've never experienced this kind of love, Miss Quinn," he says. She wasn't sure if she had experienced any kind of love, actually. But she wasn't willing to share that thought. "Unrequited love is the most painful kind to ever exist. Its flames consume one's soul and burns like fever. It's the biggest punishment we can bring on ourselves."

"Still," Quinn shook her head with a pout of disdain. "I don't see the need for such drama. He was purely delusional."

"Well, Miss Quinn, in that case I have the perfect assignment for you," he clasped his hands together on top of his lap. "I want you to take the passage you took as most over dramatic and re-write it as if you were the one loving someone you could never have. You're free to write how you would react on such context."

Quinn groaned, burying herself in the chair. It was all she did not want to do, write about love - or the lack of it. That's only one of the reasons she hated her lessons.

"Oh, and please, remember to work on your penmanship like we did last week."

* * *

"Do any of you know how to read?" Rachel asked, propping the weight of her head in her hands. Lou Lee shook her head and so did Dorea - but Abbie didn't answer her. "Do you, Abbie?"

"She does. She got tutored!" Lou Lee said with pride. Rachel admired their relationship - it was almost as if they were sisters, one always being happy with the other's achievements. She was glad to be so easily accepted into their little family, and sharing the kitchen house with them was by far the best moments of her days.

"But only because I needed to read the recipes madam Judy brings me," she explained.

"Have you seen how many books they have in the library, Abbie?" Rachel asked, and she nodded. "Isn't it wonderful? I had never seen such a big library."

"I'm not allowed to read books, though." Abbie shrugged, and Rachel sighed.

"Would you teach us, Abbie?" Rachel asked, turning to Lou Lee who nodded in excitement.

"Slaves are not allowed to teach other slaves how to read," Dorea said, taking the words out of Abbie's mouth. "You should know that already. I don't want you getting in trouble!" She reinforced it, playfully grabbing Lou Lee's ear.

"They say that slaves who learn how to read end up with the wrong ideas." Abbie grumbled sympathetically.

"Well, what if you told madam Judy you needed help in the kitchen? Maybe we could say you needed me to read the recipes while you did then!" Rachel tried, knowing Abbie wouldn't have the heart to tell her no. "Please, Abbie! That would be my dream come true!" She begged, hands clasped in front of her.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell her." Abbie rolled her eyes and Lou Lee grinned even more excited than Rachel herself. "But be prepared, because chances are she'll say no!"

"Are you coming to the party tonight, Rachel?" Dorea asked, changing the subject before the girls got too excited.

"What party?" Rachel frowned.

"The crop over party! Haven't you heard of it?" Lou Lee asked, and Rachel shook her head. "It's the party to celebrate when the slaves down the quarters are done with harvesting. We get extra meat in our rations and there's music and there's dancing…" She sighed fancifully. "It's the best night of the year!"

"Well, I suppose I'm going then! It sounds amazing!" Her smile grew. Abbie giggled and shook her head at Rachel's enthusiasm. "Do you think they will let me?" She asked.

"Oh, yes," Dorea said. "It's Mr. Russell's tradition to give everyone a break for the party. I don't suppose it would be different with you!"

But only she knew what Quinn was capable of.

* * *

"Will you be coming to the party tonight, Quinn?" George asked during supper. Quinn pushed a piece of chicken to the other side of her plate, contemplating an answer.

"Must I?" She asked with a small frown, playing with a piece of chicken from her plate. She had been to those parties before and she definitely didn't like them. The amount of slaves dancing, and singing, and eating as if they were free, disturbed her.

"Well, I suppose you're not compelled to attend if you don't want to," he answered truthfully, taking a sip of wine as they fell in silence. "I would enjoy your company, though."

"I think you should go, my dear," her father encouraged. "As I've said before, you'll be running this farm one day. This is the kind of thing that can save you a lot of trouble in the future. Get the slaves to sympathize with you already."

"Miss Quinn, am I allowed to go?" Rachel took a step forward to ask. It was impossible to determine who was more shocked about her interruption, Dorea or Quinn.

"Bold of you to interrupt our supper to ask for a favor." Russell commented, raising an eyebrow. Quinn knew Rachel had immediately regretted her decision.

"She really won't ever learn how to hold her tongue." Quinn shook her head, covering her face with her hand. The interruption wasn't even what bothered her the most, but the fact that this situation would show her parents how she still wasn't able to control her own slave.

"All the slaves are allowed to come, Rachel," said George. No one had the courage to speak against him - not even his father. No one wanted to start a scene, and they had realized George was all for it lately.

"Talking about _boldness_ ," said Judy, "I was informed this afternoon that this slave of yours, Quinn, has been asking around to be taught how to read."

Quinn scoffed incredulous. Rachel really had more nerve than Quinn thought at the first place.

"Why would she want that?" Russell asked his wife, ignoring Rachel's presence in the room. Quinn watched Rachel's cheeks grow pink and was happy to see she wouldn't be alone in her affliction that night.

"Apparently she wants to be able to help Abbie in the kitchen, with the recipes," said Judy passing along the information she had received.

"Nonsense," Quinn replied, bringing a napkin to her mouth. "She doesn't have time for that. Or at least she shouldn't have, if she was doing all her chores."

"Well, I think it could be useful to have another slave who is able to read in our house. In case we have an emergency." George argued. Quinn wondered if he took pride in constantly disagreeing with their family.

"What kind of emergency would require reading, George?" Russell shook his head. "Reading makes they think they're entitled to an opinion. Which they aren't. At least not _my_ slaves."

"Perhaps if you-" George tried to argue back, but Russell had enough of it for the night.

"George, this is not up for discussion. You can do differently when you have your own slaves."

George gasped, and Quinn smiled behind her napkin. It was nice to finally have her parents on her side instead of his.

"I will _never_ have slaves of my own." He said coldly, before getting up and leaving without excusing himself. If Quinn ever did that, she would be in deep trouble. The perks of being a boy.

"Good luck living like that, dear," Judy whispered beneath her breath.

* * *

The Fabrays walked over to the drawing room where the ladies had their tea and the men finished their wines after supper. Meanwhile, the slaves were dismissed earlier - against Quinn's wishes - to get ready for their party.

"Oh, goodness, you all look beautiful!" Rachel exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth, once she entered the kitchen house and found Dorea, Lou Lee and Abbie dressing up.

"Thank you!" Lou Lee grinned, swirling around in her gown.

"I've got something for you to wear, Rachel!" Said Dorea. She came in carrying a long bright blue gown, with golden embroidery on the edge of the sleeves. "I figured this would match your shift nicely and go well with your petticoat."

"Oh my, it's too beautiful Dorea! I can't take this!" Rachel shook her head with glistening eyes. She had never wore such luxurious gown.

"Yes, you can, dear," Dorea insisted. "It made it for Lou a few years ago, but it doesn't fit her anymore. You're shorter and smaller than her, I'm sure it will fit you. There's no reason to keep it inside the closet!"

"Please, Rachel! You'll look stunning!" Said Lou Lee, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the room. "I won't let you leave the room until you try it!"

Rachel rolled her eyes playfully, but put on the gown. It felt foreign to carry so much weight on her body, but even through the small mirror she could see how different she looked. The blue made her skin pop, and for a second she could almost say she found herself beautiful. She had barely managed to open the door, and the three other woman were already swooning over how she looked.

"You look like an absolute princess!" Abbie said, pulling a chair. "Sit in here, I'll do your hair!"

Not too long later, they were all ready to go. But Rachel knew her fairytales never lasted for long, and her stomach dropped when the bell from Quinn's bedroom rang. Rachel sighed, but waved her hand dismissively.

"You guys can go ahead, I'll check what she wants and be right there!" She said with a small smile.

"Are you sure?" Lou Lee asked, and Rachel nodded. She could do nothing but hope that Quinn wouldn't give her any trouble about going.

* * *

"Miss Quinn?" Rachel knocked on the door before opening it. "Do you need anything?"

Rachel came inside, and Quinn dropped the empty cup of tea she held. Rachel hurried to grab the shattered pieces from the floor - before Quinn could step on them - and almost failed to notice Quinn's blushing cheeks.

"Why are you dressed like this?" Quinn asked with a frown. Suddenly Rachel felt too self-conscious, and wondered if her clothes really looked as good as the girls had told her. Maybe she should have just sticked with her usual shift and plain gowns.

"For… the party. Miss Quinn." Rachel explained hesitantly, but Quinn dismissed her reply and laid in bed. Rachel bit her inner cheeks. "I take you aren't coming, then." And Quinn ignored her once more. "Miss? What did you need me for?"

"Oh," Quinn answered with a small gasp, as if she had forgotten her reasons. "It was to take the cup downstairs. I don't want any ants coming up to my room. But that's taken care of now. You may leave for your _party_."

"Thank you, miss Quinn." Rachel bowed lightly. "Goodnight," she said before closing the door behind her.

Quinn had been oddly speechless. _Was it possible she had stunned her miss_?

She shook her head, reminding to not fool herself and carried the broken cup to the trash to finally go out to the party.

* * *

Rachel had no idea what to do first. She wanted eat enough meat to make up for all the years she barely got any, but she wanted to dance by the fire with everyone else and she just couldn't choose which one she wanted more. She had never seen anything like that. She had never seen slaves so happy.

Russell and Judy swirled among the slaves and for a second Rachel almost forgot about who they really were. George danced with a _slave_! Rachel thought she would die before seeing a white man from the big house dancing with a slave in front of everyone and not being ashamed at all by it. If she didn't feel the cold breezy against her hair and the delicious taste of the food, she would be sure it was all a dream.

When she had eaten enough to fill her stomach, she got up to dance with everyone else. She let the music, so rare in that farm, flood her ears and she spun around and around and around. With her eyes closed, she remembered of how Quinn danced in her lessons and tried to mimic it, although she knew she wouldn't have a shred of her miss' grace. But she was having fun, and that was all that mattered at the time - until someone stopped her placing a hand on her shoulder, and her eyes shot open.

"Rachel!" Lou Lee grinned mischievously. "This is Jackson," she pointed to the guy right by her side. "Jackson, this is Rachel. She's Quinn's new slave."

"Nice to meet you, Rachel," he smirked, reaching out for her hand and pressing a kiss there before she could even blink. There were few things that annoyed her more than unwanted and unadvised touches. She had her reasons.

"Jackson is dying for a chance to dance with you!" Lou Lee cheered, grabbing Rachel's hand and placing on his shoulder. "I told him you would absolutely give him the honor. Won't you?"

_No_ , she wanted to say. But Lou Lee's eyes pleaded, and she owned her a favor - after all, she was wearing her dress. Jackson's eyes yearned, and she couldn't be deceiving - her hands were already placed to dance. And her tongue felt tied - she couldn't say no.

Rachel twirled in Jackson's arms for what felt like hours. She tried to find an out, but everyone was busy having fun, and she tried to convince herself she was doing the same. When she gathered enough courage to open her eyes, she found Quinn by her bedroom's window looking straight at her direction. And Rachel couldn't help to compare how Jackson would never be able to dance like Quinn did.


	8. Chapter 8

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

"So…?" Lou Lee asked to grab Rachel's attention, leaving a broom by the door and sitting across the table where Rachel peeled potatoes.

"Good morning to you too, Lou." Rachel chuckled, not lifting her eyes from work. Quinn would wake up soon, and she knew Abbie needed the help before she left. She couldn't let her attention stray.

"Yeah, yeah. Good morning." Lou Lee rolled her eyes, grabbing a knife on the counter and starting to peel a potato of her own. Rachel smiled and muttered a thank you, but Lou Lee dismissed her again. "Tell me everything!"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, sucking in her bottom lip. She knew well what Lou Lee meant, but she wanted to buy herself time. She knew Lou Lee would be disappointed with her answers.

"Oh, you know it. Don't try to fool me!" Lou Lee threw a piece of potato peel on Rachel, who squealed and dodged it - but never met her eyes as her cheeks blushed. "Tell me how was it with Jackson!"

"It was… okay, I guess?" Rachel raised an eyebrow and shrug lightly. She really didn't want to talk about it. Specially with Lou Lee, who had such high expectations about the matter. "The party was very fun, though. I ate enough to survive the whole winter to come!"

"Rachel, _please_ ," Lou Lee groaned. "Tell me the details, the important stuff. Is he a good dancer? Did you like talking to him? Did you even like him at all? Did you kiss?"

Rachel had managed to laugh at the several questions dropped by Lou Lee - she was still to meet someone as curious as that one, but she couldn't help blushing further at the latter.

"I don't know if I like him, Lou," she argued. "I've just talked with him once. It's too early to tell."

It was true, after all. Rachel hadn't despised him, that was for sure. He had been kind and friendly, although she wasn't pleased with how bold he was. It had taken her a fair share of time to convince herself to just give him a chance and dance with him without any worries - because maybe he was different than all the other men she met. She couldn't be more let down when she found out otherwise.

"Did you kiss?" Lou Lee insisted, and Rachel sighed deeply with a nod. "How was it? Was it good, finally?"

Surprised didn't cover how she felt when in the middle of the dance, his lips crashed against hers. She wasn't even sure they were allowed to do so - _especially in front of their masters!_ But it was too late, he was already on to her and her previous experiences in the matter had showed her she was better off without fighting it.

"No," she answered bluntly. She wouldn't lie to the one true friend she had in that house. "It wasn't good."

"Oh, really?" Lou Lee groaned again, shaking her head. "How come? What was wrong with it?"

"I don't know…" Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheeks. She just wanted to peel the potatoes quietly, she didn't want to discuss this kind of thing. Quinn could wake up and give her a leave, but of course, Quinn never helped her. Not even unconsciously. "It's not that it wasn't good at all, it just didn't feel like I think it should feel. I didn't like it."

"I really don't understand you sometimes, Rachel." Lou Lee shook her head, getting up to sit in the chair by Rachel. She grabbed her hand and Rachel gave her a fake smile. She wasn't good at all at faking her feelings. "He's handsome, he has his manners, he lives right by your side… What more could you want?"

"You see, when I was little my mother always told me about how she and father fell in love." Rachel explained, breathing out the weight in her back. "She talked about how it was magical, and how she felt like floating every time his hands stroke against hers, and how she nearly fainted from happiness when they first kissed…" Rachel finally looked in Lou Lee's eyes and found them to be more understanding than she imagined. "I just never felt that."

"Well, you know what?" Lou Lee asked, with a voice clearly meant to cheer Rachel up. Rachel prayed it would work.

"What?" She asked.

"Although I really hope you find it, I can't be the one give you that, obviously." Lou Lee answered with a giggle. "But… I can give you a _good_ kiss. So that you know what to look for and what to do when other boys come to you."

Rachel frowned in confusion for a second. Certainly she had understood something wrong, Lou Lee couldn't be meaning that she was going to- and then she did. She leaned forward and took Rachel's lips between hers and Rachel had no idea of what to do. She wondered when it would come the day she wouldn't be kissed by surprise.

Her hands instinctively flew to Lou Lee's hair, although she wasn't sure if they meant to pull her closer or push her away. She had to admit, it wasn't bad. But it was different. It felt wrong. Rachel knew she had to stop her, but she didn't know how. She reminded herself to close her shot opened eyes - but that's when she heard.

Loud clattering was suppressed with a bang, and the girls pulled apart. By the door, Quinn stood with a bag of gardening tools by her feet and her mouth fallen open. Rachel froze, and Lou Lee bowed her head. Rachel couldn't even let her mind think about how severely she would be punished for that. She had not only not been in Quinn's room when the girl woke up, but Quinn had dressed and probably eaten on her own and as if it wasn't enough - found Rachel in this situation.

"When you're done with whatever the hell you're doing, bring me this bag to the garden." Quinn scoffed and spun on her heels, leaving the room.

"I'm so sorry!" Lou Lee said with pleading eyes, but Rachel knew apologies wouldn't cover it.

* * *

Lou Lee agreed to peel the rest of the potatoes, and Rachel grabbed the bag from the floor and ran for her life.

Rachel found Quinn kneeling on the floor under the shadow of her hat and picking out weeds from a jardiniere. Quinn didn't look up at her arrival or did anything to acknowledge her. Rachel gulped - she knew the more Quinn held back, the greater her scolding would be. Quinn drew her gardening gloves from the bag, and Rachel kneeled silently by her side.

"How can I help you, miss Quinn?" She asked. Quinn looked up and Rachel felt the urge to take a step back. She couldn't read Quinn's eyes, but they were terrifying. Rachel bowed her head, and Quinn looked away. Rachel couldn't imagine how it could get worse.

"Hand me the pruner," Quinn asked. Rachel obliged, and watched Quinn being ever so gentle, picking stray twigs from the bush and cutting them out. Rachel almost thought the action felt painful to Quinn, and she asked herself how could it be that the same girl who fell bad for pruning a bush could be so eager on spanking her.

"Would you like me to go ask for Mr. Cornelius, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. She didn't understand why was it that Quinn was doing the gardener's work. It didn't sound like the Quinn she knew. "He could help you out."

"No," Quinn sneered. _At least that hadn't changed_. "This is my garden. I take care of it." She explained, for Rachel's surprise. She wasn't the one to justify any actions to Rachel, but Rachel nodded nonetheless and kept watching as Quinn so carefully tendered for the bush.

She couldn't help wondering, how could the bush look so dry when the rest of the garden looked so healthy. It wouldn't make sense to say Quinn didn't take good care of it, because she clearly showed otherwise. Maybe Cornelius just had a better hand for plants. But then, Rachel couldn't understand why Quinn wouldn't give up the task, for the sake of her own garden.

Quinn's finger got caught in a thick thorn, and she flinched and yelped. Rachel gasped watching the tip of the glove slowly growing red from the blood and reached out.

"Let me help you, miss," said Rachel, wrapping her hand on her own apron to clean the blood. But Quinn flinched again, pulling her hand away from Rachel.

"I'm fine," she replied harshly. But she wasn't. Rachel could see her mind running with every breath, and she decided to take a risk. It was not like her situation could get any worse, so she should as well try to make it better.

"Look, miss Quinn, about what you saw-" she tried, but Quinn cut her short before she could even begin to explain herself. Maybe it was for the best. She really didn't know how she would explain it, after all.

"You really won't learn how to hold your tongue, will you?" Quinn asked in mockery, holding up the pruner. Rachel gasped and closed her mouth - afraid Quinn would cut out her tongue. Quinn giggled devilish and returned to her bush.

Rachel had to start thinking before speaking.

* * *

Quinn was perplexed. Baffled. Shocked. The whole morning had went by, and still she couldn't stop thinking about it. She knew slaves were allowed to have relationships among themselves, and she had heard rumors of their _odd_ customs, but she had never even thought of such a thing. She was fairly sure Rachel was going to hell for that.

But _still_ , she couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't get over the way her stomach twirled at the sight, and how she felt the need to throw up. She couldn't understand why did it look like they were enjoying themselves more than it looked like when her mother and father kissed. She couldn't believe her slave was so audacious. And she was fairly sure she would be going to hell herself if she didn't stop thinking about it.

"Quinn?" Her mother asked, coming inside her room and startling her. She was lucky no one could read her mind, but she still blushed as if her mother had caught her doing something wrong.

"Oh, mother!" She exclaimed, rising to her feet. She needed to talk to someone about it, or she would go crazy. She needed to know if she was allowed to punish Rachel for that, or if it was normal for them. "I've been meaning to talk to you!"

"What is it?" Her mother furrowed her eyebrows, sitting on the chair by her window. Quinn searched for her eyes - she had no idea why, but she feared how her mother would react. In fact, she was afraid of even letting the words slip out of her mouth.

"It's about Rachel," she spilled out in a huff.

"Oh, Quinn, for heaven's sake!" Her mother rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of this drama between you and your slave. You should have learned how to treat her by now." Quinn gulped and nodded. She didn't have the guts to go against her mother. "I'm gonna give you one last chance on keeping this girl. Go talk to Malcolm and ask him for instructions."

"Malcolm, the overseer?" Quinn asked in a small frown. She wasn't very fond of the man - he always smelled badly after spending the whole day down the quarters.

"Yes, Quinn, who else would it be?" Her mother sneered. "It's your last chance. If I hear you complaining about her once again we are going to sell her. I always thought you were too young to have a slave of your own, but as usual your father didn't agree. Looks like, again, I was right."

"It won't happen." Quinn swallowed dry, promising. She was glad she wasn't able to really tell what was bothering her, because now she knew her mother would have reacted much worse than she even imagined. "What was it that you needed in the first place, mother?"

"I need you to go to Basseterre and fetch some jewelry at your grandmother's house. It's mine by right and I don't wanna leave it there. I don't trust those slaves."

Quinn abode, like always. She always did anything to try and earn her mother's love. Still, her mother seemed to refuse to be a mother to her and even orders like that were given as if she was speaking to any of the other workers in the house. Quinn longed for a word or act of affection, but she had given up hope long ago.

"Did you call me, Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, appearing at the door as soon as Quinn rang the bell. The girl looked frightened, and Quinn bit her tongue to avoid a smile.

"Yes," said Quinn, turning her back to the girl and going through her stuff on the dressing table. Anything to avoid Rachel's eyes. "Ask Hank to prepare the carriage for me, I'll be leaving for Basseterre in half an hour."

"Oh," Quinn heard Rachel whimpering and stopped, frowning. "Can I come along, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. "I miss my father and the other servants from the mansion, I wish I could see them!"

Her voice was so hopeful. Quinn was surprised by her courage to ask for such a favor on a day like that, when she should in fact be awaiting for punishment. Anyhow, Quinn would never allow that. She feared Rachel's father would try to buy her again, and Quinn didn't know how far her rights went or how to deal with it without her own father's help. As long as she could stop it, Rachel wouldn't be seeing him again.

She opened her mouth to say no, but the word got stuck inside her throat. It happened way more frequently than she would like to admit - she found herself speechless way too many times. Lucky for her, Rachel perceived her silence as denial and walked away quietly. Quinn let out a long breath, and wondered why the air always felt thicker at Rachel's presence.

* * *

"Good afternoon, miss Quinn," said the carriage driver, holding the door open for her and offering a hand to help her inside.

"Good afternoon, Hank." Quinn answered with a smile. He was one of the few paid employees of the farm, and perhaps that was the reason Quinn liked him so much.

He always made sure their drivings wouldn't become monotonous, talking to her through their way. He carried snacks, because he knew Quinn always got hungry during longer drives but never remembered the get snacks for herself. He offered blankets at the first chill wind that blew against the carriage. But most of all, he could still respect her and catch a hint when she wanted to sleep or just be quiet - something _someone else_ could never do.

"So, what brings you to the marvelous Basseterre city this time?" He asked, grabbing the reins and making the carriage start moving. Quinn was grateful for the small window that allowed their communication.

"Oh, I'm just going to fetch a few things for mother." She explained with a smile. "I thought about going to church too, but I-" She stopped herself. She shouldn't overshare, especially about that matter. Truth is, she was afraid of stepping inside a church having what she had in mind. Hank didn't ask any further, and Quinn thanked him mentally.

"Would you like some apple fries?" He asked, lifting a bowl and passing to her through the window. She had just had lunch, and the road to Basseterre wasn't that long - but she didn't have the heart to deny it.

"Oh, thank you!" She answered, grabbing the bowl and trying some. "They're are delicious, Hank. But I'm afraid I won't be able to eat all of these! Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"No, no, most definitely not, miss Quinn." He answered, shaking his head vigorously. "I just assumed your slave would come too, and brought some extra for her." Quinn frowned.

"No, she isn't coming. But even if she did, she doesn't deserve those indulgences," Quinn replied a little too sharply, and cleared her throat to recompose herself. She looked forward to the day a mere mention of her slave wouldn't get in her nerves.

"Oh, noted, miss Quinn. I apologize." Hank nodded, and continued at Quinn's smile. "Still having problems with her, miss?"

"Even you know that?" Quinn's voice failed in frustration. She needed to fix that, and quickly. She couldn't bear to lose respect at the farm before she even started running it. "She's insolent, Hank. Can you believe today she dared to ask to come along? As if we were purely friends exchanging favors." She huffed, and Hank giggled.

"She's a difficult one, I'm sure of that." He shook his head with a smile. "She's been here only for a while and is already getting her way through the quarters."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked. She hadn't heard of Rachel wondering down there, and she couldn't imagine a reason for it. To be honest, she couldn't understand why anyone would deliberately go to the quarters.

"Well, I don't like to be the one to gossip, miss Quinn…" Hank murmured.

"This isn't gossiping, Hank. She's my property, I have the right to know. You tell me right now!" The fact that Quinn was infatuated by the driver didn't stop her from showing him his place. She knew where to draw the line.

"I saw her kissing Jackson, a boy from the quarters, at the crop over party." He answered in another murmur.

"Oh," Quinn murmured. _Oh_ was all her head could muster. She was speechless once more. Her stomach twirled once more.

_Oh._

* * *

_Basseterre, 1778_

Entering her late grandmother's house made her spine chill. It's not like she believed in ghosts, but she would rather not spend too much time right where someone had died. She hurried inside to grab what her mother had asked and leave as soon as she could.

"You," Quinn shouted to the first slave she saw inside. "Where is my grandmother's safe box?"

"It's over here, miss Quinn," she replied, jerking her head for Quinn to follow her upstairs. As they walked, the woman looked over her shoulder to Quinn, and asked. "Did Rachel come along with you, miss Quinn?"

"No," she answered harshly. Just when she was almost getting to forget it, the mention of Rachel's name brought back the memory she so hard tried to suppress. It was almost like people did it on purpose.

Quinn walked to the safe box and opened it with the key her mother had given her. She asked the slave to bring a bag for her to put the jewelry in and bring it back safely to the farm. But instead, the woman sent the bag with another slave, who made the same mistake.

"Oh, miss Quinn, may I ask you how's Rachel doing?"

Quinn wondered how a simple two syllables word could be so powerful. She didn't even need to close her eyes to watch Rachel kissing the slave over and over again. Her insides boiled in rage. It was distressing her to realize how much that moment had affected her.

Quinn shoved the safe box on the floor, making a loud thud of the metal hitting the hardwood. The slave froze.

"The next person to mention this girl's name is gonna be dead. Get over her!" She shouted, to make sure everyone in the house could hear her.

But even then, she knew well how hard it was to get over her.

She couldn't do it herself.


	9. Chapter 9

_Rose Hill, 1778_

It was bed time. Quinn had postponed it as much as she could, but now she had no other way - everyone else in the house was already asleep. She was exhausted from the day, but she feared the minute she closed her eyes she would see it again. The kiss that haunted her constantly.

It felt different now. She had made her research and she learned how wrong it was. She didn't have any more doubts about Rachel going to hell. She knew Rachel deserved the worst punishment she could inflict. Still, she only seemed to think more and more about that morning. Not to mention the dreams that would never let her have one peaceful night of sleep.

As if all of that wasn't already enough, there was Hank telling her about how Rachel had also kissed another boy from down the quarters. Quinn wondered how many more there were that she wasn't aware of. She spent a whole lot of time trying to find out why it bothered her so much, and settled for the explanation that if the slaves trusted Rachel more than her, it would be easy for them to start an uprising once Quinn ran the farm. It was plausible. It helped her heart stop racing for no reason. It helped her sleep at night.

But that didn't mean it was the truth.

Quinn laid back as Rachel closed the curtains and started folding Quinn's clothes. Her eyes didn't rise to Quinn. Not once, since that day - which also infuriated Quinn, for no apparent reason. Quinn had decided to confront Rachel about it. She couldn't let the girl slide with such big misbehavior. She needed Rachel to be as distressed as she was.

"You know," Quinn murmured, immediately getting Rachel's attention. "I could kill you for kissing another woman." Not even Quinn knew how she managed to sound so cold, when inside she was near to a heart attack. She had read about it and thought about it, but when the words came out of her mouth it suddenly felt too real. "That's sodomy," she finished with a gulp she hoped Rachel hadn't realized.

"I know you won't," Rachel replied. The insolence was back and against Quinn's belief, her heart raced even faster. She would never admit it, but she missed the fire behind Rachel's eyes. She missed having something touching her - even if it was anger. "I'm the only slave you have."

"My father could buy me another. Money is no objection to my family, as you may already know." Quinn's mouth tasted bitter. She sounded a whole lot like her mother. Arrogant. She always tried to run away from that adjective, but it seemed to chase her right back.

"Is that so?" Rachel asked, taking one step forward. Quinn's eyes bulged out against her will. She had always knew Rachel was defiant, but she had never been so aggressive. "Then why is it he had never bought you one before you inherited me?" She asked, and Quinn furrowed her eyebrows in a deep frown. She would never admit defeat.

"You are such a whore," Quinn growled loudly, and Rachel finally flinched. "I will not tolerate you whoring around this farm. If I ever hear anything about you and other slaves I will bring the matter to my father. It's their slaves you're fooling around with." Quinn narrowed her eyes and connected with Rachel's. The rage in one single look between the two of them was enough to destroy an empire. And maybe it would. "He won't be as merciful as I am, you can be sure of that."

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned her back to Quinn. Quinn didn't know which one of the acts infuriated her more, but if she had a gun by her side, Rachel would have been dead. Rachel didn't fear Quinn, and that she already knew. But to realize the mention of her father didn't make Rachel falter at all either, worried Quinn.

"Grab your stuff," she said. That got Rachel's attention more than anything she had said before. "You'll be sleeping in the dressing room from now on. I don't want you and your bad influence around the good slaves we have downstairs."

"But miss Quinn, there's no bed in the dressing room!" Rachel argued incredulous. She had backed down and Quinn didn't even need to look at her to see it. If she knew all it took was to take Rachel away from the other slaves, she would have done it much sooner.

"I'm aware," Quinn answered with a devious smile, turning on to her side and adjusting herself in her huge comfortable bed. "And don't think this will be your only punishment for that."

* * *

"Rachel!" Dorea exclaimed, being the first one to notice the girl coming in the kitchen house. "Good God, you're here! We were all so worried! All your things are gone, where have you been?" She asked hysterically while Abbie and Lou Lee ran out of their rooms.

"Calm down, everything's fine!" Rachel soothed, grabbing Dorea's hand and sitting down. "I'm gonna be sleeping up there from now on," she grumbled, lowering her head.

"Oh, dear!" Abbie sighed, sitting by her side. "What happened? Did she punish you again?"

"Actually, no." Rachel shook her head and Lou Lee raised her eyebrows in surprise. Rachel bit her lip as they exchanged a glance. She couldn't tell Abbie what had happened. "But a couple days ago I wasn't there when she woke up and she had to do everything on her own and still come down here to fetch me and…" She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, you know how she is. She says I'm suppose to sleep upstairs so I see when she wakes up."

"Well, it could have been much worse, right?" Lou Lee chuckled nervously. Rachel could see how sorry the girl was, but even though she had been the one to make the move, Rachel didn't blame her. She could have pulled back right away, and Quinn wouldn't have seen it.

But then she wouldn't see that look in Quinn's face. That so frequent look that told Rachel with all the words what Quinn was still thinking about it, and that made Rachel shiver.

"She says there's more to come. I just hope she forgets it, although I know it's unlikely." Rachel shrugged and leaned her head on Abbie's shoulder. Abbie caressed her hair, and Rachel closed her eyes. "I hate waking up there. I miss hearing you guys chat and even the noise of clattering silverware as you polish it for breakfast."

"We're gonna miss you too," Lou Lee whispered. "Especially since now I'm gonna have to peel all the potatoes alone," she played, gaining a tap on her head by her mother. Rachel loved watching Dorea and Lou Lee together - maybe because it somehow reminded her of her own mother.

"I just hate how she took the one thing I love. You're the closest thing to a family that I'll ever have," Rachel whined and Abbie pouted sympathetically. "I hate her with all my strength."

"Oh, we all do!" Lou Lee giggled. "I don't even know why she came down here in the first place. She could have rang the bell, like she always does."

"I guess she did and we didn't hear it," Rachel confessed. "She wanted to go to the garden. It actually surprised me to see her doing something useful instead of asking for someone else to do it." Rachel grinned and Lou Lee nodded.

"Oh, the rose bush again?" Dorea asked, shaking her head.

"I don't think so," Rachel replied. "I didn't see any roses."

"That's the problem. This farm used to have roses blooming all year long - that's why it's called Rose Hill," Dorea explained, and Rachel shot her eyebrows up. "Miss Judy used to take care of them and they were just beautiful."

"What's wrong with them now?" Rachel asked with a frown.

"Miss Judy stopped taking care of them after Miss Frannie died, and they never bloomed again," Abbie answered.

"Who's Miss Frannie?" Rachel asked. She felt the air shifting in the house.

"Their eldest daughter," Lou Lee replied. "But we're not allowed to talk about her." Rachel frowned deeper. She didn't like how tense everyone seemed to get with a simple mention and was frustrated that Lou Lee had stopped her from asking further even before she started. "Do you want help to take your mattress upstairs?" Said Lou Lee, clearly trying to change the subject again.

"I don't think she will let me. I think she actually wants me to sleep on the floor," Rachel murmured. Her curiosity quickly vanished away to be replaced with usual anger that came whenever she thought about her owner.

"Maybe you could ask George? I know he would be on your side!" Lou Lee encouraged, but Rachel saw the disapproval in Dorea's and Abbie's face. Lou Lee had an innocence that Rachel had long lost.

"Maybe I should just obey and avoid further trouble for myself…" Rachel complained, resting her head on the table. "It's only a matter of time before she forbids me from coming to see you guys in here."

* * *

Although Rachel hated to be in the same room as Quinn, and knew the girl felt the same, she did everything she could to watch Quinn's lessons. She was amazed by how many different things someone could learn, and listened carefully to everything the tutor said - she suspected she listened to him even more than Quinn did. Quinn seemed to not like the man and didn't take the lessons seriously, and Rachel simply couldn't believe how foolish that was of her. If Rachel had the chance, she would grasp it tightly with both hands and never let it go.

Art lessons were one of the few Quinn seemed to have some interest on - she actually did what the tutor asked of her. Granted, she never followed the instructions and just did it her way, but at least she tried, which was more than Rachel could see on her other lessons.

"Hold the brush more lightly, miss Quinn," the tutor instructed. Quinn ignored. "Shall we use a little more gray in this sky, huh?" Ignored again. "You should work with faster strokes, miss Quinn! Faster!" He got up in his feet, moving his hands dramatically. Quinn started humming. "What if we drew some trees along that river?"

"What if you shut your mouth and let me work in peace?" Quinn shouted. Rachel was impressed, it usually took way less for her to lose her patient.

"Miss Quinn, for the last time, I will not tolerate you speaking to me in this manner!" Mr. Henn shouted back. "You owe me respect! Now get back to work and follow my instructions!"

He should know better than to scream back. Rachel knew it. This would never get Quinn to do what he wanted.

"I think I'm done for the day," she said sarcastically, tipping the canvas from easel with one touch. Paint splattered all over the carpet, and Rachel could only imagine how furious Judy would be when she found out. She hurried to pick it up, but Quinn stopped her. "Don't touch that." Their eyes met and the whole room was on fire again. "Let's go," Quinn said. Rachel blinked a couple times before realizing she was the one being addressed.

It was the first time. The first time she asked Rachel to come along. The first time Rachel saw Quinn's eyes shining with anger for someone other than her. The first time she realized how much she craved Quinn's attention. The first time she realized how much she longed for Quinn's approval.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Judy asked, marching into the room with her face burning red. Quinn retreated on the couch and gulped. "I had to spend an hour convincing Mr. Henn to come back tomorrow and not to give up teaching you after the little scene you put up in your last lesson. I'm so tired of your attitude, Quinn!"

"And I'm tired of him trying to boss me around!" Quinn shouted back. She knew it wouldn't take her anywhere. She knew it would only make her mother more enraged. But if she didn't stand up for herself, _who would_? "Art isn't supposed to be taught, is supposed to be felt. I love painting but I swear to God, I will never grab a brush again if I have to use it like he wants me to."

"He's only trying to help you get better, Quinn. Don't you wanna get better?" She asked, and Quinn shrugged with a frown. "God, I feel like you do this on purpose to get me mad at you. To get my attention. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not," Quinn murmured. "Not everything is about you, mother."

"Then what is it?" Judy screamed even louder. Quinn wished she could tell her mother that yelling didn't make her arguments any better. "You have so much potential, I don't understand why you waste it. Don't you wanna sell your paintings? Get recognition?"

"I don't need that," Quinn answered, and her mother groaned. "I know I'm good. I don't paint because I want recognition or money. I paint because it makes me feel good, and I don't need it to be anything more than that."

"Well, I'm not wasting my money on a highly graduated tutor for you to paint _just for fun_!"

"Then tell him not to come back!" Now Quinn was yelling too. It seemed to be the only way to get heard by her mother. "God knows I won't be the one to miss him!"

"Where's my beautiful family?" Quinn heard her father's voice from the corridor, and breathed out in relief. "What is going on up here? Why wasn't there anyone at the door to greet me?" Quinn softened at once, when his arms enveloped her in a hug and he kissed the top of her head.

"Quinn had another discussion with Mr. Henn this morning. A pretty serious one, I could say." Judy intervened.

"Oh, we can talk about that later. Let's not ruin the mood for dinner, alright?" He dismissed, kissing his wife's hand before leaving the room - expecting to be followed, as usual.

"Your father won't always be here to save your skin, Quinn." Judy muttered before leaving, making Quinn shiver.

* * *

Rachel ran her fingers through Quinn's hair, undoing her braid and untangling the knots. Quinn sat on a bench in front of the mirror, and Rachel could watch her jaw twitching with anger. She had discussed again with her mother when they tried to explain what happened to her father, and stormed into her bedroom asking to get ready for bed. If Rachel didn't know Quinn, she would swear she saw a tear threatening to escape her eye.

But Quinn always held herself. She had her hands clenched together and her shoulders so tense that for the fraction of a second Rachel thought about running her hands down to give her a massage. She had learned it well, helping her mother relax after a hard day of work. But something inside her said Quinn wouldn't appreciate it as much as her mother did.

Still, Rachel felt like she should do something to try and make Quinn relax. She usually liked seeing Quinn worked up, but she came to realize she didn't enjoy it nearly as much when Quinn's anger was towards other people.

"Just so you know, I really like your paintings. I think they're beautiful," Rachel murmured, keeping her head down.

"Is it your place to voice an opinion?" Quinn chuckled ironically, but kept her voice low in a whisper. She was scolding Rachel, but her voice was so soft that Rachel's heart skipped a beat. Quinn confused her to no end, and she felt like always pushing further - at least until she found out what was in Quinn's head. She would, eventually. No one could hide for so long.

"I just thought you would like to know, miss," Rachel argued.

"Don't try to be nice now just because you're afraid of what your next punishment will be, Rachel." Quinn murmured, turning around faster than Rachel could expect and locking their eyes in the way that unsettled Rachel the most. "That will only make me lose the little respect I have for you."

Rachel's mind exploded. She was thrilled to know Quinn respected her, even if only a little. She was somber that she was losing that respect. She was furious that instead of acknowledging her efforts Quinn shot her down. She was stunned by the passion in Quinn's eyes. And she was incited by the huskiness in Quinn's voice.

"I apologize, miss Quinn." She didn't falter. She didn't lower her head. She wouldn't be the one to unlock their eyes.

"I think it's time we end that matter," said Quinn. "I don't see a reason to delay it any longer." Quinn took a step forward, bringing them closer than they had ever been. Rachel frowned shortly, but remembered to make herself a rock. She would be steady as if her life depended on it. "You're going to kiss me."

But that, from all things, she didn't expect. There was no amount of self-control able to make her stay still. She took a step back as her mouth fell open and her eyes shot out of her face. "Wh-What?" She stuttered, and hated herself for it.

"You heard me well," Quinn nodded with a straight face. "It won't be hard for you, you're used to it, aren't you?" Rachel didn't answer. "I know you are. Being the whore you are, I wouldn't expect any less."

"I'm not a whore," Rachel whispered, looking down to the floor. Quinn grabbed her by the hair and her legs felt too weak to hold her up.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Quinn raged. Rachel swallowed hard. Her body quivered. She wanted to grab Quinn by the hair and throw her against the lightened fireplace right behind them. She wanted to grab Quinn by the hair and shove her down the stairs. She wanted to beat Quinn's face against the floor until her blood was splattered all over the expensive carpets. "I don't know what is it that keeps me from killing you. You have one second to obey me before I do so."

So Rachel did. She closed the gap between them, swallowing the gasp of surprise that escaped Quinn's lips. She caught Quinn's lower lip between her own and kissed her with more spirit than she had ever done in her life. She let all her anger pour out inside Quinn's mouth and before she could stop herself, her hands were in Quinn's hair. She pulled it, and Quinn pulled hers tighter.

Her chest growled, and Quinn pulled it again. Maybe if she kissed Quinn long enough, Quinn would die out of breath. She would be free. But before she could, she would ruin Quinn's life as much as Quinn ruined hers - starting with her counting for Rachel's mother to die.

She dove her tongue inside Quinn's mouth and felt velveteen skin all over. She would never understand how someone so ruthless could feel so soft inside. She scratched Quinn's scalp, and Quinn smashed her tongue against hers. Her nails dug in Quinn's head, but it only encouraged Quinn further. Quinn's tongue took over and slipped inside her mouth. Rachel felt her eyes going to the back of her head behind her eyelids.

Rachel pushed Quinn's tongue and grabbed her bottom lip again. She sucked on it and Quinn's hands ran towards the back of her neck. She bit it. She felt the steely flavor flooding her mouth and smiled. It wasn't how she planned, but she had taken blood from Quinn.

That's when she noticed Quinn's mouth wasn't on her own anymore. Quinn's warm breath wasn't against her face. The cold air hit her and it hurt. But it didn't hurt more than the sharp slap that hit her face a second later.

Even then, it wasn't enough to wipe the devious smile from her face.


	10. Chapter 10

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

They hadn't talked - _really_ talked - in a long time. There was no doubt that they would never be as close as they once were. He didn't reach out for Quinn anymore. Maybe he had given up on her, and she couldn't exactly blame him.

But if there was anyone in that house who would listen to the mess that took place inside her mind, it was him.

"Hey, George?" Quinn murmured, peeking her head inside his office. She wondered when she started feeling shy about her own brother - but then again, she wondered when a lot of feelings started coming to her and she didn't get any answers at all.

"Quinn!" He turned around with a confused frown. He didn't expect to see her, and it hurt. Maybe she should be the one trying to reach out, not him. She didn't have enough people who cared about her in the world to afford losing her only brother. "Is there anything you need?" She cringed at how formal he sounded. That's not how it should be. That's not how _they_ should be.

"I was wondering if you would like to go Basseterre with me?" She stepped into the room, hovering over his desk and raising her head at the amount of papers and terms she had never seen before. "I was thinking of going to church, maybe."

"Church?" He frowned deeper. Quinn felt almost sympathetic for his confusion, until she remembered the confusion in her own head ran much deeper. "It's not Sunday, Quinn."

"Well, do we need to wait until Sunday to worship the Lord?" She shrugged. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it yet - she had planned on waiting until they were alone in the city to tell him. Being there she would be sure no one would be listening to them. Only she knew how much the walls in that house could listen.

"You are right about that." He smiled. Quinn had missed it, that smile so big that made all her worries vanish when they were kids. _Not anymore_. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to let you down, little sister. As you can see, I have a lot to work on. If you would like I could make you company on Thursday, when I'll be going to the city to visit a patient."

"Oh, it's okay. I'll be okay," she replied with a dismissive wave of hand. But she wasn't so sure about it.

She had lost her cue. She had pushed herself away from him, and it was too late. He was now too busy for her, much like everyone else in that house. He had come back from England, but she would never stop being alone in that house.

* * *

"She did what?!" Lou Lee yelled, and Rachel hushed to cover her mouth with her hands as she looked around to make sure no one had heard them.

"Will you please be quiet?" Rachel shushed. "I don't think this is the kind of information we should share with the whole farm, Lou!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just… I don't even know what to say. I'm shocked, really." She shook her head, whispering. "I mean, Lady Angeline is one thing - she's old and she didn't marry and she lives in _America_. But miss Quinn? I would never expect she would ask you that!"

"Well, believe me, you weren't as shocked as I was." Rachel chuckled.

"And what did you do?" Lou Lee whispered, leaning forward.

"What you mean what did I do?" Rachel laughed nervously, narrowing her eyebrows. "I kissed her."

"You did not!" Lou Lee's eyes shot open so big that Rachel could swear they would fall out of her face. She nodded. "Rachel, are you mad? She could have killed you for that!"

"Oh, yes, I'm aware. She repeated that many times." At each word, Lou Lee's mouth fell more and more open. Her reactions were driving Rachel nervous. Yes, she knew it was wrong and dangerous, but the way Lou Lee acted made Rachel question for the first time if perhaps she shouldn't have done it. But even though she was scared, she would have done it again if she could go back in time. "I bit her, Lou. Hard. It bled and I felt it right in my mouth." Her eyes shined. She got shivers just from remembering it.

"I honestly can't believe you're still alive," Lou Lee whispered incredulous. "She didn't do anything?"

"She slapped me, actually. But nothing new there, right?" Rachel shrugged. "Besides, I know she liked it. You should have seen her. I really never felt so powerful in my life." Rachel didn't dare to close her eyes - she knew memories would flood her like they had since that night.

"What about you?" Lou Lee asked with a smirk. Rachel wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

"What about me?" She asked.

"Well, did you like it? Was it good, for once?"

Rachel hadn't thought of that. She didn't think of that kiss in _that_ way. It wasn't a kiss like the ones her mother had talked to her about - it was spiteful and it was bitter. She wanted to kill Quinn with her lips - but at the same time, she knew she wished it had lasted at least a little bit longer. She couldn't deny the moan that had left her body either. Nor the way her legs weakened when Quinn held her so tightly by the hair.

It had definitely not been bad.

"I don't know," Rachel shrugged in a whisper. Her cheeks blushed, and Lou Lee giggled making her even more embarrassed about it. "I just don't understand why she asked me that," said Rachel, in an attempt to change the subject and still get an answer for the many questions that fluttered inside her head.

"Masters always go for slaves, Rach," she whispered with a sad smile. Rachel knew that. Her mother had told her the stories. But the way Lou Lee said it… Rachel froze. She wanted to grab Lou Lee's hand and ask if anything had ever happened to her, but she couldn't. The words wouldn't leave her mouth. "I'm just surprised she would go for _you_. I mean, no offense but she should know how dangerous that is for her."

"Yeah…" Rachel whispered.

If it was dangerous for Quinn, it was fatal for her. It was just a matter of time.

* * *

Quinn didn't talk to Hank on their way to Basseterre that day. She had too much in her head, and was afraid that once she opened her mouth she wouldn't be able to control what came out it. She saved it all to speak to God in the church. To ask for forgiveness. But once she found herself kneeling in front of the altar, she realized she wouldn't be able to say anything out loud. She would have to trust the Lord could hear what went on inside her head.

She was afraid. She didn't want people to find out. It had been a terrible, terrible idea, and she couldn't regret it more. She was just curious. She had never been kissed before and she knew it would take way too long to do so if she followed her parents instructions. She had never been kissed but every night she would dream of lips against hers - which only increased after she saw Rachel kissing the slave. It was just the easiest way out.

She needed to find out if it would be as good as it was in her dreams. Granted, in her dreams it was always boys and Rachel, well… It was just much more sinful. But in her defense, she never thought Rachel would go through with it. She couldn't imagine Rachel would _for once_ obey her. She thought it would just be an excuse for her to punish Rachel deeper for disobeying her again. But it wasn't.

It was supposed to be a punishment for Rachel, but _she_ felt like the one being punished. Her mind punished her at every second. Every time she brushed her tongue against the swollen lip and felt the exact place Rachel had carved down her teeth - she was punished. When Rachel brushed her hair that morning, and she felt the girl's finger moving so gently against her scalp - she was punished. Because she knew gentleness was not what she wanted.

She died the moment Rachel pulled her by the hair. She had never held herself so tightly, afraid she would become undone right in front of her slave - _because_ of her slave! If her parents ever found out, it would be the end of her. If anyone ever found out, it would be the end of her. Still, she kept missing the taste of Rachel in her mouth.

But she was strong. She was Quinn Fabray, and she wouldn't let it happen to her. It wouldn't happen again. She would just keep on punishing Rachel, like she always did, and hope that one day Rachel would break and have enough of it. And Quinn would finally be satisfied. And the thoughts would leave her head. That's what it was all about. It was all a need for control. She would have it, and she would be fine again.

She had to.

"Forgive me, Father," she whispered.

* * *

"Rachel!" Lou Lee whispered from behind the door as soon as Rachel came inside. Rachel turned around and checked, but Quinn had already walked in front of her. "This came with the mail for you. You're lucky I got it first, it would be really weird if someone else saw it. The mail man had to ask me if there was a Rachel living here, cause you had never got anything before." She handed Rachel a small envelope.

"What is it?" She furrowed her eyebrows, turning it around. There were things written on it, but Rachel couldn't make out what they said except for her name, which she had learned to recognize.

"It's a letter to you," Lou Lee whispered, and then smirked. "The mail man said is from Lady Angeline!" Rachel shoved it in the pocket behind her apron before anyone could see. "How are you gonna read it?"

"I have no idea," Rachel replied in a shaky breath. "I can't let Abbie read it, what if it says _something_?"

"You are probably right…" Lou Lee sighed. Rachel hated that none of them knew how to read. She hated how they couldn't deal with stuff like that themselves.

"I think I'm gonna ask miss Quinn's tutor to read for me," she said, but explained further when met Lou Lee's terrified glaze. "He hates Quinn. He would be my best bet, Lou."

"I don't know Rachel, maybe we should just burn it then. That would be too dangerous," she said.

"Oh, no." Rachel shook her head vigorously. "I need to know what it says. I'm too curious to let it go like that."

* * *

"Father," Quinn asked entering the drawing room. Rachel followed closely - after what happened, she couldn't dare to make any mistakes. She would be by Quinn's side all the time for whatever she needed. She knew the smallest error would be severely punished. "Will you please ask for a horse to be prepared for me? I would like to go riding."

"Really? Wow, it's been a while, Quinn!" Russell raised an eyebrow in surprise, but gave her a smile of excitement. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to escort you this time. Please, take Rachel with you. I don't want you wandering around alone."

Rachel's heart stopped. She almost didn't realize the disappoint in Quinn's face. It was evident how hard the girl tried to win her parent's time. Rachel would find it heartbreaking, if it weren't Quinn. She didn't deserve Rachel's pity. Besides, Rachel was too cheered by the possibility of riding again. She used to go with her father too, but she hadn't ever since she moved to the farm. She missed it way too much.

"Father, please." Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine by myself. I know how to ride well."

"I'm not saying you don't, sweetheart. I'm just afraid something might happen. You're my heir, we can't take any chances. What will this farm be without you?" He played, and Rachel could swear Quinn was hurt by his words. Yet, she didn't argue any further.

Rachel climbed onto the weaker horse. She yearned to touch the big golden horse Quinn rode, but she knew better. Just being in a horse was already enough, and she held the reins tightly to avoid her urge to just hug the horse's neck with all the strength she had. She loved horses with all her heart - she just wished her father was there with her. It had been a long time since she missed him as much as she did on that day.

"Let's go," said Quinn, with one swift whip on her horse's back. The animal leaped and ran. Rachel had no idea how Quinn managed to hold herself, but she didn't have time to think. She tapped her horses stomach with her feet and ran in Quinn's direction. She giggled to herself, feeling the warm breeze against her face. She closed her eyes for half a second, but when she opened them again she realized how far Quinn was.

Her horse didn't run as fast. She didn't want to get the poor animal tired, but she knew she couldn't be that far from Quinn. If anything, Russell had ordered her to be close. She tried her best - until she realized Quinn did it on purpose. She ran as fast as she could and took sudden turns, trying to make Rachel fall off of her horse.

Rachel was startled. Basseterre was a small city - although the biggest near them. The streets were narrow and there were always people around. Rachel wasn't used to running so fast. In one of the turns, she could swear she wouldn't be able to stay up. Her heart raced and she held tightly onto the horse's mane and closed her eyes, hoping for the best.

When she opened them again, her horse had slowed down and Quinn's was riding right by her side.

"Not so bad for a slave," Quinn whispered, raising her eyebrow. Rachel could almost swear she saw something close to a smile on the corner of Quinn's mouth.

And Rachel's stomach fluttered.

* * *

Rachel hurried to the library to get to the tutor before Quinn arrived. It wasn't that difficult, Quinn really was always late, but still, she didn't wanna risk it. Mr. Henn sat on the armchair, as usual, and read a book. Rachel almost felt bad for interrupting, but she knew she wouldn't have another chance if she missed this one.

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked, her voice slightly louder than a murmur. He raised his head to face her, but then looked around, to be sure he was the one being addressed. "Would you do me a favor, sir?" She asked, checking back when she thought she heard steps.

"A favor?" He raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. Rachel took a step forward and grabbed the letter from under her apron.

"Could you please read this letter for me?" She asked, and his eyebrows went even higher. "I have received it but I don't know how to read," she explained, as if it weren't obvious already. He reached out his hand, and her heart raced. He grabbed the letter and adjusted his glasses to the tip of his nose.

"What is going on here?" Quinn asked, leaning against the doorframe. Rachel felt the air being kicked out of her lungs.

"It's nothing, miss Quinn, I was just delivering the mail that arrived for Mr. Henn," Rachel justified with the first thing that came in to her mind. She looked over for the tutor, hoping he wouldn't give her out. But he didn't have to. Quinn didn't believe her for a second.

She marched her way through the room and before Rachel could prevent it, she grasped the letter out of Mr. Henn's touch. Rachel watched as her eyes flickered reading who it came from and gasped when Quinn torn the envelope open. For a second, she hoped Quinn would read it for her. But then she remembered who Quinn was.

"What the hell is this?" She yelled, looking at Rachel as her face turned bright red. Her mouth fell open and she gasped with each line she read, which only made Rachel more curious about what it said. When she was finished, she slapped Rachel's face. It always hurt more when she wasn't expecting it. Rachel's hand covered her warm cheek, and she felt a tear coming to her eyes as Quinn started ripping the letter apart.

But she wouldn't cry. She would never let Quinn see her tears. She swallowed them, and acted tough while she watched Quinn throwing every inch of paper on to the fire. They twirled and burned under the flames and with that, all the hopes of Rachel ever finding out what they said.

"You are not allowed to receive any mails," Quinn sneered, with another slap - on her other cheek this time. "If you get any other like this, bring it to _me_. Or you'll face the consequences."


	11. Chapter 11

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

“Rachel?” Abbie asked in startle as Rachel stormed into the kitchen house slamming the door behind her. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“It’s nothing…” Rachel sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her apron. She tried to hold them back but the moment she was out of Quinn’s sight all her efforts vanished and the gates were open for a waterfall of tears. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

“No,” said Abbie, firmly. She narrowed her eyebrows and walked closer to Rachel, lifting her chin to see her face. “We’re family, Rachel. You’re a part of this now. We don’t hide things from each other. Tell me what’s wrong.” Abbie knew exactly how to put words to make Rachel speak, and Rachel loved her for that. She didn’t have the easiest time opening up, but seemed to be always able to with Abbie.

“It’s just…” Rachel breathed in deeply, summoning in all her courage to let it out. “I got a letter today and since I can’t read I asked for Mr. Henn to do so, but miss Quinn caught me and ripped the letter and now I’ll never know what it said,” she sobbed again, with a failing voice.

“Oh, dear!” Abbie shook her head, wrapping her arms around the girl. “A letter from whom?” It was the one question Rachel had hoped she wouldn’t ask.

“My father,” she answered quietly. She felt guilty for lying, but she couldn’t bear the idea of telling Abbie the truth and dealing with what could come next. 

“Why didn’t you bring it to me? I would have read it for you!” Abbie complained, giving Rachel a small and affectionate tap on the shoulder.

“I- I thought you would be mad at me for getting letters. I didn’t know if I was allowed to get them,” she lied again, feeling her face getting red. Lucky for her, it could be excused as just a reaction from all the crying. “It doesn’t matter now anyway, because miss Quinn says I’m not allowed to get them anymore.”

“Of course I wouldn’t be mad!” She shook her head, holding Rachel to close to try and stop the sobs. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“I just feel so, so- helpless!” Rachel hid her face on Abbie’s shoulder. “If I could just read nothing of this would happen. I would give the world to be able to read and meanwhile miss Quinn who can have all the lessons she wants is locked in her room because she doesn’t feel like studying! It’s so unfair!” 

“It is…” Abbie whispered in a sigh. “It’s very unfair, dear.” 

* * *

 

“Quinn Fabray, you open this door at this instant or I will order Malcolm to put it down!” Judy yelled from the hallway. Quinn rolled her eyes and groaned, getting up from bed to unlock her door as she was told. 

She was furious with herself for not thinking before acting. If she had thought it better, she would have realized sooner that instead of ripping the letter apart it would have been a much better idea to show it to her parents. If anything, she would manage to get rid of her aunt for once and all.

“What do you want?” She sighed.

“Excuse me?” Judy half-yelled in disbelief. “Do not talk to me like that,” she demanded, pointing her finger right at Quinn’s face before letting herself in. “May I know why you are throwing this tantrum like a small child instead of being in the library where you are supposed to be having your french lessons?”

“I’m not in the mood for it today, mother,” Quinn replied nonchalantly. She could see her mother’s nerves boiling in front of her, and embraced herself to what could still come.

“Oh, you are the most spoiled brat I’ve ever seen!” Judy scoffed. Her mother didn’t understand. She never would. Especially considering that not even Quinn understood - _why was she so angry about the letter?_ “In case you don’t know, we pay for those classes. The least you can do is pretend to enjoy the privileges you have!”

“Mother, please don’t overreact,” said Quinn, getting a huff from her mother. Not even she knew how she was managing to stay so calm. “Besides, I already know french, I don’t need those classes. I’m not asking for you to spend your money with me. You can stop paying for them.”

“Oh, Quinn, would you please try and not to be so ungrateful to everything your father and I provide for you?” Judy sneered, and Quinn rolled her eyes further.

“I am not being ungrateful! There’s just no point to all of this!” She yelled back, falling with her back on her bed. “I don’t know why you insist I learn all of this, it’s not like I’ll ever use it! I’m never leaving St. Kitts, I’m afraid of sailing in the ocean and even if I weren’t - I like it here,” she ranted. She could see the terror in her mother’s eyes. “We’ve got pretty beaches and nice weather,” she tried to argue, but her mother just shook her head.

“Quinn, don’t be a fool,” her mother lowered her voice. “I had no choice, but you do, Quinn. You can leave this hell of a place!” She reached out for Quinn, grabbing her by the cheeks and shaking her, as if she tried to shake senses into Quinn’s head. “Wouldn’t you like to live in a big city? Not like Basseterre, a real big city! With all the stores and restaurants and theaters! Wouldn’t you like to see _snow_?” She almost begged.

“I wouldn’t disappoint father,” Quinn whispered. “This is his dream. He fought hard for it and I will stay in here and take care of the farm and the plantation for him, like we always planned. I would never disappoint him.” Her mother shoved her back on bed.

“You disappoint me daily, but you don’t seem to care about that,” she growled before leaving. 

* * *

 

“Did you call me, miss Quinn?” Rachel appeared by the door. The sun had barely rose, and Rachel had woken up with the rang of the bell. She thought Quinn would ask for water and go back to sleep but found the girl already dressed and sitting on the dressing table. She groaned internally.

“Yes,” Quinn replied, fixing an earring. “Let’s go ride again.”

All the annoyance Rachel felt for waking up early completely vanished with the idea. She served Quinn’s breakfast, excused herself to get dressed and they managed to leave before the sun was high in the sky. Quinn left a note at the breakfast table - Rachel presumed it was for her father, but she would never know for sure, just like she wouldn’t know what was written on it. But she tried not to get herself down over it, after all, she was going riding again and she couldn’t be more excited.

It was too early and Quinn hadn’t asked for the horses to be prepared beforehand. Rachel watched in awe as Quinn saddled the horse. She didn’t think Quinn would know how to do so, given that she always asked for other people to take care of it - but she worked with such gentleness and ability that Rachel could have swore she had done it everyday of her life. 

Quinn mounted on the golden horse again, and Rachel realized it was a favorite of hers, especially seeing how affectionate she was towards the animal. It was odd, to say the least, to see Quinn being so kind to anyone. To surprise Rachel even further, Quinn choose another horse for her - much stronger than the one she had last ridden. In a matter of minutes, they were running free through the fields of the farm.

From up the hill, Rachel could see slaves waking up down the quarters and marching to the middle of the crop. She felt her stomach whirling when she watched small children being taken to the crops to weed it out. They were way too young for that, and she mentally thanked God for being lucky enough to have been raised in the mansion.

“Wanna race?” Quinn asked, bringing Rachel back from her thoughts. She had almost forgotten Quinn was there with her, and was taken aback by how casual she sounded - as if they were merely friends riding together. The idea made Rachel’s stomach whirl again, but in an entirely different way. Maybe all the whirling was because she still hadn’t have breakfast. Maybe it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t.

Rachel nodded with a shy smile that she never thought would come out in front of Quinn, but before she could think any further about it, she shook the reins with all her strength and felt her hair flying back with the wind as her horse started running. Rachel giggled to herself without even noticing, but blushed when realized Quinn was right by her side and looked at her when she heard it. 

She felt like they had just started running and had been running for hours, all at the same time. Running didn’t make her nervous anymore. Her horse took a slightly advantage - she knew it could go faster, but she didn’t want to make Quinn angry by winning. In fact, if Quinn could just be like this all the time, Rachel was almost sure she would never be punished again. But she knew it was only a matter of time for it to be over, and seized the moment as long as she could.

And then she heard a loud yell. 

She looked back in time to see Quinn’s horse spraining its ankle as it lost its horseshoe. Quinn held tightly to the mane as the horse lost stability and Rachel ran back in their direction, stopping by Quinn’s side.

“Miss Quinn, are you okay?” She asked, hopping off her horse. Quinn did the same, with a confused look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she whispered, leaning and dropping a kiss on the horse’s forehead. “I don’t know what happened, she has never done this before.”

“She lost her horseshoe,” said Rachel, grabbing it from the ground. “Her feet must be sensitive without it, so she sprained her ankle.” Quinn looked impressed for half a second, and Rachel suppressed a smile of pride. Her father had taught her a lot about horses.

“Dammit, what do we do now?” Quinn asked, stomping her foot on the ground. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do. The noise startled the horse, who started running again right into the crops. Quinn looked in shock at Rachel’s direction, but Rachel had no idea what they could do. “Go get her!” Quinn yelled.

“Miss Quinn, I’m sorry but we both know I won’t be fast enough!” Rachel argued, and Quinn groaned. “You can ride on this horse and I’ll walk by your side. She probably won’t run too far, especially in the middle of the crop. We’ll find her.”

“Alright,” Quinn sighed, mounting on the horse. 

Rachel grabbed the reins and breathed in deeply before pulling Quinn in the middle of the crops. The sugarcanes were taller than them, and the sharp leaves cut Rachel’s arms as she opened the way for Quinn to pass. Something inside her tried to say this didn’t sound like a good idea, but Rachel knew Quinn wouldn’t go home without her horse. 

“Can you see it from up there, miss?” Rachel asked. She couldn’t see anything ahead of her, but hoped Quinn could, since she was up in the horse. It was their only hope.

“No,” said Quinn, biting her lip. Rachel wasn’t the only one unsettled by being in the middle of the crop, and she knew Quinn would be much more afraid then she was. 

“Do you wanna go back and find someone who would help us?” Rachel asked.

“No,” Quinn replied again. “We’re gonna find her.” Rachel consented and kept walking.

But they walked, and walked, and walked, and there was no sign of the horse. In fact, Rachel was almost sure they were walking in circles, but there was no way she could know for sure. Everything looked the same, no matter which direction she looked to.

“Are we lost?” Quinn asked. Rachel was too scared to answer. Quinn gasped, hopping off the horse and stopping in front Rachel. “Where are you taking me? Did you plan this?” Her eyebrows were furrowed and Rachel could see the fear building up inside Quinn. But it was Quinn. She wouldn’t admit it. Instead, she channeled her fear to anger - like she did with most her feelings, Rachel had gathered.

“Of course not, miss.” Rachel shook her head with a small scoff. “We’re looking for your horse! I asked you if you wanted to get help from someone, and you said no!”

“I don’t believe you. You’re taking me somewhere, don’t lie to me! I want to go home. I won’t fall for your plan,” she said with a sharp drew of breath. “I demand that you take me home right now.”

“There wasn’t no plan, miss.” Rachel squealed. Quinn was frustrating, to say the least. “Do you really think I would go through all this struggle?” She pointed to the several small cuts all over her arms. “If I wanted to kill you I would have done it already, while you slept.

Quinn gasped way louder than Rachel thought was possible for a human. She wanted to giggle at the overreaction, but she knew better. Yet, Quinn slapped her. Quinn did it so often that Rachel rarely even bothered on rubbing her cheek anymore - but she couldn’t help getting angry. There was no reason for that punishment.

“You!” Another slap. “Are an insolent wench!” Another slap. 

“Miss Quinn!” Rachel yelled, trying to grab Quinn’s hand to stop her but she pulled it back. She was terrified, Rachel could almost smell it on her. She didn’t know if she was angry about it or if she felt bad for Quinn - the only thing she knew is that she had to stop Quinn before her cheek was raw from the incessant slaps. And she couldn’t think of any other way.

Rachel grabbed Quinn by the cheeks and pulled her into a kiss before Quinn could think or process what was happening. When Quinn didn’t move, Rachel couldn’t even imagine in how much trouble she would be. But it was only a matter of seconds. Rachel sucked her bottom lip and felt Quinn shivering under her hands.

All of the sudden, it was like Quinn came alive. Her hands flew to Rachel’s collarbone and she dug her nails hard, kissing Rachel violently, fast and hungry. It was fiercer than their first kiss and Rachel almost couldn’t keep up with Quinn. It felt like Quinn had held back for too long and was letting it out all at once. But then Rachel remembered it was Quinn, and it all sounded absurd.  

Rachel pulled Quinn impossible closer and dove her tongue inside Quinn’s mouth. Quinn caught it between her lips and nibbled its tip. It wasn’t enough. Rachel needed more. She urged for more. She felt like Quinn could bite her tongue off and she still wouldn’t have gotten enough of that kiss. She was probably sick - that couldn’t be normal. But she couldn’t stop.

Until Quinn pulled away, and slapped her again. She stood still, fingers against swollen lips. She watched as Quinn marched away from her and didn’t even object before following the girl.

She was definitely sick.

 

* * *

“Quinn!” George yelled, wiping his hair out of his forehead with a relieved sigh once the girls approached the front door. “God dammit, where were you? We were dead worried!”

“I went out for a ride but then Star ran away and I tried to find her but ended up lost in the middle of the crops,” Quinn whined, running to her brother’s arms. She knew they weren’t close anymore for that kind of action and her suspicious were confirmed by how surprised he was. But she needed someone holding her to make sure she wouldn’t crumble down to the floor.

“Dear God,” he whispered, shaking his head and wrapping his arms on her waist. “Is she still out there? I’m gonna tell Malcolm to go find her.” Quinn nodded silently. “Let’s get you inside, father was about to have a heart attack worrying about you.” 

Quinn noticed how he didn’t mention her mother. It stung, but she was still numb from everything that had just happened. She couldn’t recall a situation where she was more terrified. It was one thing to face Rachel’s defiance inside her room, where she had all the power and a lot of people surrounding her to call out for help. It was a whole other thing to have Rachel saying she could kill her in the middle of a crop she didn’t know her way out and far away from everyone she knew.

But Rachel didn’t. She didn’t kill her and instead, she kissed her. Quinn couldn’t understand how much of a fool Rachel could be to waste the opportunity. She couldn’t understand what was Rachel plan behind that kiss - because she was sure she was planning something. And most of all, Quinn couldn’t understand how much a fool she could be to simply fall in Rachel’s arms and kiss like her life depended on it.

“Look who’s back!” Said George, pulling Quinn to the office where their father paced back and forth.

“Oh, thank God!” Russell exclaimed looking to the ceiling before hurrying to take Quinn into his arms. She didn’t know when she started crying, but she realized it when hugging her father left a damp mark on his shoulder. “What happened to you, my dear?”

“I was riding but Star sprained her ankle and ran away and I was lost in the middle of the crops,” she whispered.

“Oh, poor thing,” Russell caressed her hair. “How did you find your way back?” 

“Rachel lead our way back,” she confessed. It took more strength than she would like to admit. She felt bothered acknowledging that Rachel who lived there for just a few months knew the farm better than she did - she, who lived there her whole life and was supposed to run the place in the near future.

“Is that true, George?” Judy asked. Quinn scoffed. She never believed Quinn - ever since they were kids - and always asked her brother to confirm her stories. However, he wasn’t even with her on that day. There was no way he could know if she was lying. Still, her mother trusted him more than Quinn’s words.

“Well, yes, mother. Didn’t you hear Quinn?” He asked with a sad smile. Quinn knew he was trying to pick her side and was grateful for it - but she knew it was a lost case. Her mother would never trust her. Judy ignored him.

“See, dear?” Russell asked, giving gentle taps on her back. Quinn felt just like a child in her father’s arms. As if she was small and helpless. And maybe she really was. “That’s why I tell you it’s better to always have someone with you when you go riding.” 

 Quinn nodded silently. She had no energy to fight his argument.

* * *

“She defended you?” Dorea half-yelled in disbelief. 

“Well, she said I was the one who brought her back.” Rachel shrugged. She didn’t get why everyone was so impressed by it - it was the truth after all.

“Good Lord, what did you do to get that?” Lou Lee asked playfully and Rachel’s eyes shot opened. She didn’t want Dorea and Abbie to realize what Lou Lee had meant, and luckily they hadn’t. Rachel kicked Lou Lee under the table, but the girl only giggled.

“Be careful though, dear. You were lucky she didn’t focus on the part that you are also the one who got yourselves lost. You’d have been in great trouble,” Dorea advised, and Abbie nodded. Rachel hadn’t thought of it that way. She had never thought Quinn would help her someday.

“Anyway, I have something for you,” said Abbie, sitting by her side with the biggest grin in her face and setting a book on the tabletop in front of Rachel.

“What’s this?” Rachel asked with a frown. It was cruel for Abbie to give her a book when she knew Rachel couldn’t read. Abbie wasn’t cruel, so Rachel figured out there was something more.

“You’re starting your first reading lesson today,” said Abbie. Rachel’s hand flew to cover her agape mouth and suppress her squeals.

“Oh my goodness, are you serious?” she asked. Abbie nodded and she felt her heart exploding in joy. It was her dream come true and when she saw how happy Dorea and Lou Lee were for her, it felt even more special. “Are you gonna learn too?” she asked Lou Lee.

“Oh, no. I’m too scared of getting caught,” Lou Lee confessed quietly, and Rachel’s smile faded. She had almost forgotten that.

“It’s okay, they won’t find out,” Abbie reassured. “We just have to be really careful okay?” Rachel nodded.  

She should allow herself to enjoy her happiness before it was taken away from her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

"Miss Quinn?" Rachel called out while Quinn read in the small library. Quinn lifted her eyes and an eyebrow, suspiciously. She could notice the change in Rachel's tone whenever she would ask for something, and it almost made her want to giggle.

"Yes?" she asked. She couldn't deny she was curious to find out what it would be this time.

"I was wondering…" Rachel fidgeted with her hands and kept her eyes to the ground. "If maybe I could get Sunday afternoons off?" She fluttered her eyes and looked up at Quinn. Something twisted inside her, and this time she couldn't hold back a scoff.

"Why would I allow that?" It was the most absurd idea Quinn had ever heard. _How would she spend a whole afternoon without someone tending for her?_

"Well, the slaves down the quarters have their Sundays off…" Rachel shrugged. Quinn had never seen her voice go so soft. It made her want to throw up.

"How do you know that?" Quinn asked. _She_ didn't know it - Rachel could be bluffing and she wouldn't have a clue. And that scared her. It was way over time she learned more about the farm.

"I know a lot about this farm, miss Quinn," Rachel replied.

"Yeah, maybe if you didn't spend so much time prying you would have time enough so to not need an afternoon off," said Quinn, bringing her eyes back to her book. She wouldn't give Rachel the pleasure of her attention.

"Is that a no, then?" Rachel sighed.

"Feel free to have your afternoon off," said Quinn. She didn't have to look up to see Rachel's face lighting up - which just made it much more delicious to bring it back down. "If you're willing to move down the quarters and work with them. They work hard and deserve a break. You don't."

"I'll work harder, miss Quinn, I promise!" she tried once more, taking one step further to try and regain Quinn's attention. Her hands were clasped together, and Quinn hated to see her begging. She hated when Rachel gave up.

"It's ridiculous how you think that being docile when you're asking for something will make me abide to your wishes," Quinn chuckled. Rachel didn't take a step back. At least she still had some pride in her. "I know who you are, you are never docile. And you'll never work hard enough."

Rachel's eyes burned with anger and Quinn bit the corner of her mouth to avoid a smile from coming up. It was good to have the real, angry Rachel back.

* * *

"Father," Quinn said, as she walked in to his office. "May I speak with you?"

"Of course!" Russell stood up at her entrance, motioning to the armchair across his table. "How may I help you, my darling? What do you need?"

"Do you remember how we talked about you starting to give me lessons about the plantation and the farm in general?" she asked, folding her hands on her lap. She wouldn't let Rachel know more about her own farm than she did.

"I do remember, yes." He nodded.

"Well I would like to start those lessons," she smiled, responding to the excitement in his voice. "Today," she emphasized. Her father pulled a watch out of his pocket and checked the time, before turning to her again with an even bigger smile hanging on his lips.

"As a matter of fact, I do have the time for it right now!" Russell answered, walking to Quinn's side and offering a hand to help her get up from the armchair. "I have to say, I'm more than excited about your interest in this matter. I'm sure you'll run this farm even better than I do!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and lead Quinn down.

She couldn't remember when it was the last time she had headed down the quarters. She used to go there quite frequently when she was a child and played with the children slaves - but that had been a life time ago. Long enough for Quinn to forget the horrible stench that this part of the farm carried.

Quinn walked behind her father. She didn't have the courage to be the one opening the way among so many slaves - in fact, she was actually a little scared. They outnumbered her by too many, it was just too easy for them to do something against her if they wanted to.

She was waiting for the worst, and it surprised her to see every single one of the slaves bowing their heads as her father and she walked by. They respected him as a master, and she could only hope one day she would receive the same treatment.

"So, here are the quarters," Russell explained, pointing to the sequence of small wood cabins. The wood had survived to all the weather changes of a caribbean island and showed its age. Her father motioned for her to come inside and Quinn faltered. It looked too small and crowded and dark and it smelled terrible.

Inside, it was even worse.

She had no idea how the small cabin could fit so many people laying down to sleep. Quinn almost felt bad for the slaves when she saw how crammed it was, but then she remembered everything she was taught. Of how slaves weren't humans. Of how slaves had no feelings. Of how slaves were reassured and thrived under the way they were treated. _It couldn't be that people had lied to her for her whole life, right?_

Her heart clenched when she saw a few small children playing with corncobs on the corner. They were oblivious to their surroundings, immersed in a fantasy land where only children could come in. They had an innocence Quinn had long lost. Maybe it was better this way.

Her father gave her instructions. He taught her about how the cabins were organized to avoid infighting among slaves and to make sure families shared a cabin. He showed her the path the slaves were supposed to go down to the crops every morning, and how they came back for their meals with the loud ring of the bell. She absorbed everything she could, but she felt restless and she knew it was compromising her learning.

From there, they walked to the storage room. Quinn's mouth fell open when she saw the amount of sugar hogshead in there - and they weren't even in their most productive times. She knew their farm held a large production, but she had no idea how large it was.

"This, my dear," her father said as he walked to one of the hogshead and opened the lid, lifting his hand and letting the golden brown grains slip through his fingers. "Is the source of all our happiness. This is what allows this dream to come true. It maintains this farm."

He explained to her how the sugar was stored and how important it was that their farm was near the sea, which made it much easier to ship the sugar to other lands where they could get much money for it. Quinn saw her father as a genius. She couldn't imagine how he had been able to think about all of that before starting a farm. She could only wish one day she would know as much as he did about how everything worked.

"I think we're good for a first day, don't you?" Her father asked, and Quinn nodded. "I'm looking forward to our next lesson, dear."

"Me too, father!" Quinn replied with a smile that hid how nervous this visit had made her.

"Just remember," he stated seriously, holding her by the shoulders. "You are not to come down here without me, am I understood? Never."

She nodded, ignoring the shiver that went through her spine with his words. It gave her a bad feeling, and she had no idea why.

* * *

Rachel tied the last knot on Quinn's stays and patted down her skirt as Quinn watched everything by the mirror. Rachel had finally learned how to dress Quinn properly and she was disappointed in losing one of their sure tensions of the day. Rachel became more and more placid each day, and Quinn hated to see her stop fighting.

"Are you going to the city, Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. Quinn replied with a mere nod, and waited for Rachel to ask to come along, as she had many times before. But the question never came. Rachel clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head. "Is there anything else you would like me to do?"

She couldn't give up fighting. Not this early. Not this easy. She couldn't take the only thing Quinn had. She couldn't rob Quinn of the only moments she felt truly alive in that prison of a house.

"You'll be coming along this time," Quinn stated. She watched Rachel's chest rising and eyes twinkling and knew how delicious it would feel to see it all fall again.

Quinn didn't tell Rachel why they were going or what they were doing. Her father had invited her to watch a public whipping in the common square, like they had done together many times when she was younger. It was her last attempt of making Rachel explode again. Even if it meant Rachel would feel terrible - Quinn didn't care.

Once they got there, it didn't take too long for Rachel to realize what was going to happen. She was far more intelligent than Quinn gave her credit for. Quinn watched her hands tugging tightly against the thin fabric of her dress and her eyes closing as a white man started to announce the whipping.

"Do not close your eyes," Quinn ordered in a growl, too close to Rachel's ear for her own comfort. She saw small hairs on Rachel's neck rising and everything inside of her rose along. But Rachel opened her eyes and looked down. "Don't try to be smart with me or you might be the next one there," said Quinn, pulling Rachel's chin up roughly.

Rachel swallowed dryly and Quinn turned back to her father. He had been oblivious to the two girls interaction and had his eyes stuck to the whipping pole. His smile was wide and shined so bright that Quinn couldn't help feeling her own lips curling up.

"Would you like to count, dear?" Russell asked, pressing Quinn's hand. "You know, for the old days." He winked and Quinn swooned. She would forever be her father's little girl. He had her around his little finger, and she knew the reciprocal was true. No one could change their relationship. She waited for the man with the whip to give her a sign, and then started.

_Un_. It sounded like music to her ears. _Deux_. Another whip. _Trois_. And another. _Quatre_. Her father smiled at her. He gripped her hand tighter. _Cinq_. Her father was proud of her. _Six_. She looked to the other side and found Rachel. _Sept_. She heard a small weep leaving Rachel's throat. _Huit_. Rachel's eyes looked like broken glass with dripping tears. It wasn't anything like the anger she expected. _Neuf_. Her heart sank. She couldn't stand. She would rather watch the slave being whipped than to watch Rachel reactions. _Dix_. Maybe she was just too old for that counting thing.

* * *

"It was horrible, it was horrible," Rachel sobbed, arms tightly wrapped around Abbie's waist as Dorea caressed her head and Lou Lee patted her back. She knew all of the help and empathy was supposed to make her feel better, but it didn't.

She felt like her soul had shattered. Seeing her mother die in a whipping pole had been the worst day of her life. Reliving that moment, even with Quinn's same counting voice as a background came as a close second. All the memories she had repressed of the groans her mother let out, came back at once. All the images she hadn't seen as a child were now playing over and over in her head.

If Quinn wanted to take her to hell, she had succeed.

"You shouldn't have cried, my dear," Dorea sighed. "That's all she wanted from you."

Dorea was right. Rachel knew it. She had been watching Quinn's frustration growing as she stopped acting out. She had simply followed the other slaves advices to avoid trouble, but Quinn wasn't a normal mistress. It had the opposite effect on her. The better Rachel behaved, the worst she was treated. She felt like she had nowhere to run.

"I couldn't help it," Rachel shook her head. "God, I just miss my mother so much… I will never forgive Quinn. It was all her fault! My mother would be here today if it weren't for her!"

"Well, we can't know that, can we? Something else could have happened," Abbie cooed. It didn't help at all. "But you know what is the best way of getting back at her, Rachel. Dorea is right. Just don't give her what she wants."

"Exactly!" Dorea agreed with a firm nod. Rachel wiped a tear on her sleeve. "Just do your job as your told and don't get worked up. Let her deal with her bitter heart and feelings alone. Don't give her the opportunity to lash out on you."

Rachel swore she would try, but it was easier said then done and she knew it better than anyone else.

* * *

Rachel was angry. She was hiding it, but she was. She wanted to rip every single one of Quinn's fingers as they lowered down and gently tapped a key of the piano. She wanted to punch the smile out of Quinn's face as she rejoiced on getting the right note. She wanted to pull Quinn's eyes out the moment she closed them, and squeeze them between her fingers until she felt the blood dripping through the slits.

But then she closed her eyes too. The music swayed between them and the instructions given by Quinn's tutor became nothing more than a distant whisper. She could watch the waves of musical notes flying from Quinn's hands and directly into her heart. She could feel tears pooling behind her eyelids and she hated Quinn even further for being able to touch her even while standing twenty feet away from her.

She wouldn't let Quinn see it. She wouldn't cry.

* * *

Quinn was angry. She wanted to smash the keys out of the piano. Rachel had made her feel things she never had felt before. She made Quinn feel bad for her. She made Quinn almost regret counting the whips. Rachel was angry and she made Quinn's heart beat like it had a purpose. And now she acted like nothing ever happened and Quinn just wished she had an excuse to punish Rachel and make her feel something again.

But she played. She closed her eyes and she let the music swirl around her. She prayed the music would make her forget the mess placed inside of her. She prayed the music was enough to make her feel something without needing Rachel to incite her. And when she opened her eyes, she saw. Rachel with her eyes closed and moving her head just slightly to rhythm of the song. The corner of her eyes glistened, and Quinn's heart skipped a beat.

She wasn't alone. They depended on each other. Quinn made Rachel feel, even if simply through a song. Rachel's feelings made Quinn feel. They snatched each other out of inertia. They _depended_ on each other to feel. She was in trouble. _But she wasn't alone_.

* * *

"I'm ready for bed," Quinn stated. Rachel's eyes shot open in surprise, and she cursed herself for blushing when she realized Quinn had been watching her enjoy the music. The tears in her eyes disappeared like magic.

"But it's still 5pm, miss Quinn." Rachel furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the clock behind them. "Are you gonna skip dinner? Are you feeling well?" She cursed herself again for caring. But again, it was her job. And she was just to do her job.

"I will and I am." Quinn shut the piano and rose up, ever so graciously. Rachel took a step back, and didn't even know why. Something in the way Quinn looked at her was more unsettling than never. "I will be expecting you in my room. I won't tolerate any delays." Her voice made Rachel shiver.

She was in trouble.

* * *

"I will fetch your sleep gown, Miss," said Rachel, bowing her head ever so slightly and walking to towards the dressing room.

"Stop right there," Quinn grabbed her arm, tighter than she intended. She couldn't hold back. She bit her inner cheek seeing her nails digging in Rachel's arm and the spot going white.

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to go to sleep," she murmured with a small frown. She pulled her arm almost by instinct, and Quinn gripped tighter.

"No," Quinn answered, reaching out her hand and grabbing the whip over the tea table. Rachel flinched instantly, letting out a small shriek and hiding her face under her free arm. Quinn giggled and let go of her arm. "I'm not gonna whip you, stupid. You haven't done anything."

"As if slaves were never beaten for no reason," Rachel murmured with her head still low.

"Shut up!" Quinn slapped her face. It was just an habit by then, Quinn didn't even think before doing. Rachel didn't seem to mind it anymore either. She grabbed Rachel's hand and opened her palm, running her index finger along the lines. "I wanna know what it feels like," she said, swallowing hard. She had wondered for a long time, but to actually get the words out of her mouth was much harder. "The whip."

Rachel took a step back, pulling her hand behind her back and out of Quinn's touch.

"I might not have your education and I might not be really smart, miss Quinn, but I'm more than aware of the consequences of injuring a white person." She clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. Quinn hated how firm she sounded. "If you are trying to get me killed, this is not how you'll manage it."

Quinn slapped her again. Something about that pretentious face just sent Quinn over the edge.

Rachel just couldn't do it. It's not that she didn't want to - _oh how she wanted to_. She wanted to wrap her hands around Quinn's throat until she was out of air. She wanted to grab the boiling hot poker and strike Quinn all over. She wanted to beat Quinn with her bare fists until Quinn passed out. But she couldn't. Her life wasn't good at all, but she still didn't want to die. It wasn't the time for it yet.

"You don't have a choice." Quinn scoffed, grabbing Rachel's hand forcefully and handing her the whip. "If you don't do it, I'm gonna kill you. It's simple, really. If you do, though, I might have mercy on you for being obedient and granting my wishes."

It sounded just too good to be true. Too unbelievable. Quinn must have been setting her up, and she wouldn't fall for it. She wouldn't give that taste of being defeated by Quinn. But she didn't let go of the whip - in fact, she held it with all the strength she had, just to make sure she wouldn't strike it out of anger. Her body shook with it, but she couldn't.

"Are you waiting until I lose my patience?" Quinn said louder, but not too loud. Rachel assumed she was ashamed of having other people hearing her. She should be ashamed of herself just for asking for that. Rachel would never understand how Quinn's mind worked. "I think you still don't understand how this works."

"What, miss?" She asked, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to ask anything, but Quinn was in silence waiting for her to do so.

"You are nothing but a filthy slave." She almost spat between words. Rachel growled inside. "You are _made_ for my use. You are to abide to my every wish without a single complain. Your will is obliged to surrender to mine. You are never having anything you want in your life."

And that's where Quinn was wrong. Rachel's thin arms had never felt so strong. Even if she didn't have a choice, she was going to get exactly what she wanted in life. She would revenge her mother, even if it lead to her upcoming death. She would make Quinn hurt like her mother had. She would whip her senseless.

"Strip," Rachel ordered, lifting the whip in front of her body. Quinn blinked too many times in one second, as if she didn't believe what her ears had heard. It was really happening. Rachel still wasn't sure if she believed it either but _oh how she wanted._

She watched Quinn swallowing hard before turning on her back. Slender fingers wrapped around the loose ribbons in her back and undid the bows of her stays. Rachel took a look back to make sure the door was locked, and swung the whip against the ground. She wanted to test her hand on it, but Quinn winced, and a smile came to her face. Quinn was taking her time taking off her clothes, and Rachel was afraid she could regret her request before she was done.

"Faster," she said, whipping the floor again. Quinn winced again, but obeyed. Rachel had never felt so powerful. She had never had any power on her hands, and she sure wouldn't waste it. She watched Quinn's gown slipping through her body and falling limb on the ground, and she shivered.

She was responsible for dressing and undressing Quinn every day, but she had never seen her out of her shifts. Quinn's bare back dazed her. She ran her eyes from sharp shoulders to slim legs and wondered how someone could be _so_ white. Quinn's skin almost gleamed under the sunset light. Rachel almost felt bad knowing how the smooth skin would look like after she was done.

Quinn looked back, as if waiting for further instructions. Rachel never imagined she would one day see Quinn surrendering - even if it was her own will behind it all. Rachel walked to her and grabbed both her hands, lifting them above Quinn's head and against the bed post.

"Do not let go," she ordered right by Quinn's ear. Quinn shivered and wrapped her hands around the post with a nod. Something twisted under Rachel's stomach and she held her legs close together to try and stop the feeling. Quinn closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the post, licking her lip and taking a deep breath. "Would you like to count? In french, perhaps?" Rachel asked mockingly.

Quinn didn't answer. Rachel wasn't expecting her too. Without any warning, she stroke the first whip. Quinn gasped and gripped tighter against the post. Her knuckles went white. A pink wound rose immediately against the light skin. Rachel had never seen a wound coming up so quickly - but then again, she had never seen a white person being whipped.

Another whip. Quinn's head fell back and a small moan escaped her lips. Almost like the moan she let out when they kissed. Almost as if she was enjoying it. Maybe Rachel wasn't doing it right. Maybe she wasn't doing it hard enough. She lashed her again. Stronger. Firmer. Quinn bit her trembling lip and closed her eyes tighter. Rachel was impressed that Quinn still hadn't let go of the post, like she had ordered. _Who would have taught Quinn could be obedient?_

Another whip. Rachel watched the first droplet of blood running down Quinn's back. Rachel felt something dripping down her leg. She closed her legs narrower and whipped Quinn again. Quinn whimpered. Rachel had never felt better in her life. She wasn't revenging just her mother, but all the slaves who had ever suffered in the hands of a white man. Something in her incessantly itched and burned with every whip and she could swear her body would catch fire any minute.

"Stop," Quinn cried out in a whimper. But Rachel didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't lose this moment. She wouldn't lose this feeling. She lashed another whip, and Quinn sobbed. "Stop it!" She said louder, as if Rachel hadn't heard her on the first time. Another whip. Rachel wanted to see her plea. She wanted Quinn begging for mercy. On her knees. Another whip.

Quinn let go of the post and turned around. Rachel froze. That was it. Quinn would kill her. With each step the girl took towards her, Rachel's heart beat faster. Quinn reached her and she closed her eyes, waiting for death and wondering how would it happen. But Quinn didn't kill her.

Quinn took her by the hair and tossed her on to the bed. Rachel's eyes shot open. Quinn climbed on top of her and before Rachel could figure out what was happening, their lips were crushing against one another's. Quinn didn't kill her. Quinn kissed her. Quinn kissed with a hunger she hadn't in any of their previous kiss and now Rachel was just _sure_ her body would catch on fire.

Quinn held her down and forced her tongue into Rachel's mouth. Rachel had never thought of fighting it. Quinn's mouth tasted sweeter than ever and Rachel tried to grab Quinn's bottom lip, but Quinn wouldn't let her. They had fought for dominance for far too long and now that Rachel had tasted it, she would never surrender again.

In a swift move, Rachel rolled them on bed making Quinn fall on her back. Quinn whimpered, and it crossed Rachel's mind how hard it would be to get the blood stains out of the sheets - but the thought soon vanished when Quinn pulled her hair again. Quinn's body felt unbelievably hot under hers and she ran her nails down Quinn's collarbone, feeling every inch of it.

Quinn didn't protest. Rachel wondered if Quinn would ever protest again. Rachel's hand slid down Quinn's nipple and Quinn moaned into her mouth. It was louder than any moan Rachel had ever heard slip out of Quinn's mouth. Rachel brought her finger back to the exact spot and grabbed Quinn's nipple between two fingers. Quinn bit her lip, and Rachel gripped hard. Rachel wasn't able to tell whose moan came out of their conjoined mouths. None of them cared anymore.

Quinn pulled apart panting and threw her head on the pillow as Rachel played with her breasts. But Rachel couldn't have enough. Her mouth needed more and she dipped to bite Quinn's jaw. She nibbled on the skin all the way to Quinn's ear, leaving a a wet path on the way and flickered her tongue on Quinn's earlobe. She could never have enough. She felt like every inch of skin was sweeter than the previous - and she wanted to ruin it all.

She bit and sucked and nibbled and watched as the color drained from Quinn's neck, leaving behind purplish bruises. She had no idea how Quinn would hide that, but she didn't care one bit. If the noise leaving Quinn's mouth was any indication, she didn't care much either.

"Touch me," Quinn whispered between whimpers.

"Shut up," Rachel answered inherently. It felt way too good to be able to say those two simple words at Quinn. Still, she didn't know what Quinn meant. She was touching Quinn. Her hands and mouth were everywhere. _What else could Quinn possibly want_? She didn't have to wait too long for an answer.

Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand out of her breast and lowered it all the way down her stomach until reaching between her legs. Rachel almost pulled her hand back in instinct - she knew she wasn't supposed to touch people there. But it was so wet and slippery and warm. It was so warm Rachel finally understood where the heat she felt was coming from. If she would catch on fire, this would be what would set her up.

Rachel slipped her hand further down and Quinn let out a gutural noise. Rachel had never heard anything quite like it. That's when she realized what was happening. That's when she understood why she felt something dripping down her leg ever since the first whip. Quinn moved her hand over Rachel's, leading her to touch exactly where she wanted. But Rachel was done obeying. If this was the moment she could take control, she would be fully on it.

Quinn didn't have a say anymore.

Rachel grabbed her hands and pinned above her head. She let out a small noise of discontent but Rachel shushed her and as soon as Rachel's other hand came back to between her legs she was moaning again. Rachel had never touched anything like that and honestly, she found it delicious. She loved how easily her fingers slipped through the folds and she loved every reaction of Quinn's body. She loved how powerful she felt. Quinn curled her toes, bit her lip, arched her back and moaned and moaned and moaned. Rachel had no idea how anyone hadn't heard them yet.

"Be quiet!" She ordered, but Quinn moaned again and shook her head. Rachel huffed and released her hands to cover Quinn's mouth. "If you move those hands I'll stop right now, do you understand?" Quinn nodded and Rachel lowered her head to hide a smug smile.

Her fingers worked fast in the exact spot she had realized drove Quinn the craziest. She tried to kiss her again, but Quinn's mouth couldn't keep up. It was all too much. And then, out of nowhere, Quinn started shaking all over. Rachel narrowed her eyebrows but kept her pace. Quinn shook harder and harder until it stopped completely. Quinn fell limp on bed and didn't move or speak at all. Rachel feared she had killed- well, she wasn't sure _feared_ was the word.

"Miss Quinn?" she asked apprehensively. Quinn opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Rachel still could hear her panting. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm quite alright," Quinn answered in a sneer, licking her lower lip. She propped her weight on her elbows, trying to get up, but cried out falling with her back on to bed again. "My back is stuck," she whined with the smallest voice.

"Wait," said Rachel getting up and off Quinn. She came back with a wet rag and sat behind Quinn, dampening her back to soften up the wounds and make it easier for her to sit up. Once she did, Rachel almost regretted everything. Her back looked a mess, and Rachel could only imagine how much it hurt. But any empathy she had soon vanished when she remembered who Quinn was, and what Quinn had done in the past.

Still, she felt like it was her duty to help Quinn out after everything. She cleaned the wounds ever so carefully and bit her lip nervously every time Quinn winced. She was impressed that Quinn didn't attack her through it - any other day she would have been slapped at least a dozen times for that. In fact, Rachel realized it had been the first time they had kissed and she hadn't ended up with a slap in her face. Maybe things were changing. The night definitely felt like life changer - at least for her.

Once she felt like there was nothing else she could do to relief Quinn's pain, she helped the girl into her night gown and followed the night ritual as if it were any other night. Set up the fireplace. Close the curtains. Help getting Quinn under the covers. And then, just when she was leaving to go to her improvised bed in the dressing room, she felt Quinn's hand gripping her arm.

Rachel turned back and watched Quinn's mouth open and close a few times, as if she couldn't gather the courage to say what she wanted. Eventually, she gave up and just shook her head slightly, turning to the other side and closing her eyes. Rachel's smile couldn't be bigger.

Maybe things had changed.


	13. Chapter 13

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

Rachel barely slept that night. She couldn't stop thinking about the feeling between her legs and how she wanted to touch herself in that exact same spot she had touched Quinn. She wanted to know what it felt like, because Quinn's reactions had made it seem like the best thing in the world. But she shouldn't. It was wrong. It felt wrong even to think about it - not to mention how wrong it felt to have done it to Quinn.

The mere act of sitting on Quinn's bed would be already enough for her mother to have scolded her, if she was alive. She couldn't even imagine what would happen if her mother knew about everything else she had done.

For the first time in her life, she prayed that her mother wasn't able to watch over her.

Besides, she was anxious thinking about how their life could change after that. Would she be required to do that every night? She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Part of her would love to frequently inflict pain in someone she hated so much. The other part was terrified of what could happen if anyone found out.

But she didn't regret it.

No, she definitely didn't. It was liberating to be able to order Quinn to do what she wanted. It was marvelous to make Quinn realize how awful the punishments were.

Maybe now Quinn would be more merciful towards her.

Rachel came down to the kitchen house to prepare Quinn's breakfast. She tried her best to hide the smug smile that hang on her lips, even though she had no way of hiding the circles under her eyes brought on by a sleepless night. Luckily, no one seemed to notice anything different. Rachel was just done buttering the bread for breakfast when Quinn walked in to the kitchen.

"I want my bedroom to be aired and the linens to be boiled," she ordered, without saying a word to any of the other slaves that stood in the room. If Rachel had any hopes things would change, they vanished right in that instant. Quinn had even dressed herself on her own. If anything, things would very likely change for the worst. She nodded in agreement and Quinn turned around to leave.

"I was just about to take your breakfast to your room, miss Quinn," said Rachel. It felt weird to call her miss again after last night, but she knew better than doing any different. "Would you like to eat with your family in the dining room instead?"

Quinn looked over to the tray on Rachel's hand and twisted her face in disgust.

"I'm not hungry," she sneered before walking out. Rachel exchange a look with Abbie, who shot her eyebrows up.

"Someone is extra weird and grumpy today," she whispered, making sure Quinn wouldn't be able to hear it. Rachel nodded silently. "I don't think she ever asked to have her linens boiled before! We do it every month, there's no way it's already dirty enough for that to be needed!"

"Well…" Rachel whispered with a small shrug. "We both know better than to deny her wishes, right?"

"Oh, yes!" Abbie agreed with a chuckle, shaking her head.

It's what she tried to convince herself.

She didn't have a choice. She couldn't deny what Quinn asked of her. If anyone was guilty on this, it was Quinn. If anyone was going to hell, it was Quinn.

Or at least she hoped so.

* * *

When Quinn woke up, she was sure everything had been a dream.

The second she tried to get up, reality hit her. Her wounds were again stuck in the bedding and this time Rachel wasn't around to help her out. She froze, looking up at the ceiling. _What had she done?_

It was reckless, imprudent even, to give Rachel that much power. She could be dead by now. Rachel could easily have killed her. Yet, she had never in her life felt as good as she did the night before. She was sore all over, and with a glance at the mirror by her bed she could see the amount of bruises covering the front of her body. Yet, she couldn't regret a second.

She was alive like she had never been. She closed her eyes and let the feelings wash her once again, but they weren't even close to as powerful as they were the night before. She never thought she would let Rachel talk to her like she had. Even more, she never thought the way Rachel spoke to her would make her stomach flutter like it had.

But that was it.

She couldn't let it happen again. She couldn't let Rachel lose all the respect she fought so hard to earn. She had already let Rachel see too deep inside of her. She had showed too much feeling. She would need to work hard to get things back the way they were.

But she didn't regret it. She just couldn't.

"Quinn?" George asked, knocking on the closed door. Quinn checked herself on the mirror, making sure she didn't have any bruises or wounds showing before replying.

"Come in," she said. He opened the door and she smiled at him with a small bow of her head. "Yes?"

"Hello," he answered. She could see that her welcoming approach made him happy. Maybe she should try doing it more. Only she knew how much she needed to get allies on that family now - in case something went wrong, she would need people who stood up for her. "I'm going to Basseterre to see a patient and I thought maybe you would like to come along? We could have lunch in a restaurant, for a change."

Quinn's eyes shined bright. She didn't think twice before accepting. It was everything she needed at that moment: a chance to get close to her brother _and_ a chance to avoid looking at Rachel. She was trying to forget how difficult it was to look in Rachel's eyes that morning and not smirk. They shared a secret, and it created a bond between them that Quinn simply didn't know how to deal with. So she did what she knew best - avoided it.

Ran away from it.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1778_

"George, I have some… mhm… _questions_ for you." Quinn hesitated. She knew a little about sex. Her tutor had told her where babies came from, but he didn't give her much more than that. It wouldn't be appropriate for them to talk about that kind of matter. In fact, Quinn was relieved when they changed subjects. Her mother, _well_ , she didn't even expect to have that kind of conversation with her mother. But now, she couldn't help wondering. And there was no one better to ask than her own brother, who was a doctor. If he questioned anything, she could always say it was just a science curiosity.

"What is it, darling?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows and taking an olive to his mouth. Quinn still didn't say anything, so he reached out and grabbed her hand over the table, giving a small squeeze in encouragement.

"I want to know about sex," she shot, the words stumbling their way out of her mouth. She looked around to make sure no one had heard, and almost didn't realize her brother choking on the olive. Her eyebrows arched and she was ready to get up and yell for help, but he raised a hand to stop her and soon enough was breathing again.

"What exactly do you wanna know?" He asked, taking a deep breath. She was surprised to see that past the initial surprise, he wasn't even embarrassed talking about it - even though they were in a full restaurant in the middle of the day. She just wished she had his courage.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Like what is precisely considered sex?" It's not like she was worried. It was just that she knew she wasn't supposed to have sex before marriage, and she was afraid what she had done the night before was _it_. Well, it sure felt like it. If there was anything else better than that, she didn't think she would be able to handle it.

She was just worried if there was a way people could find out about what she had done.

"What is going on, Quinn?" He asked, with a sly smile on his lips. He kicked her leg under the table softly, and she winced hitting her back on the chair. Air was kicked out of her lungs and she bit her inner cheeks - she couldn't let him notice how much pain she was on. Her wounds burned, but she kept the straightest face. He wouldn't find out. "Have you met some mischievous boy?"

It was only then Quinn realized how much deeper in trouble she was. Not only she had _probably_ had sex before marriage, she had done it with a slave. And not only a slave either, _a girl_. It was triple the trouble. She felt her head getting dizzy and gripped on the edge of the table to make she shouldn't fall down and make a scene in front of the whole restaurant. She still had to answer George, after all. All the thinking before answering wouldn't exactly help her case.

" _No_!" She emphasized. She wasn't lying - she really had never met any boys to whom she felt attracted. Not that she was attracted to Rachel. God, no. "I'm just curious. My tutor never really taught me about it."

"Well, let's start with what _do_ you know?" He asked. He sounded so casual they could have been discussing the color of the sky.

"Mhm…" Quinn stuttered, licking her lower lip. She knew it felt amazing. She knew she wanted to do it again and again and again. She knew she couldn't. Her back stung again. She couldn't stutter. "I know it's when… uh… when the male parts and female parts… they connect?" She didn't sound as sure as she intended - but truly, she wasn't sure at all. "But I also know there's other stuff that you can do? I wanted to know what are these other stuff."

"Yes, it can involve a female part and a mouth for example. Or even hands. The same way it can involve a male part and a mouth or hand." Oh, she was in deep trouble. She tried to hide her fear with a shy smile and a small understanding nod. Apparently, she wasn't as successful as she though. "Don't worry though, Quinn. Those _laws_ are way too old. I don't believe women have to be a virgin to get married."

"Oh, I'm- I'm not- I haven't." The amount of stuttering didn't help at all. She cursed herself silently. _So much for not stuttering._ George only chuckled. Her back stung.

"Just be careful, alright?" He grabbed her hand again. "I'm here if you need to know more. But really, just be careful. Mother would kill you if you ended up pregnant."

Oh, that wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. Or could it? Dear God, she needed to know more. And she had no courage to ask.

Her back stung. She liked it. She smiled.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1778_

Rachel was helping Quinn get ready to bed. She was almost sure Quinn would have done it alone again if she hadn't got there just in time. They hadn't seen each other all day, and Quinn didn't say a word to her as she carefully took Quinn's gown off. Quinn flinched under her touch, and Rachel couldn't help asking.

"Are they hurting too much?" She asked, running the tip of her finger over a wound right under Quinn's neck. She shouldn't care. Especially after how Quinn had treated her during the day.

But still, she felt somehow guilty.

"Don't touch me," Quinn sneered, taking a step forward and away from Rachel, voice all want and hesitation. Rachel saw her jaw tensing up in pain. Only Quinn would be stubborn enough to be in pain instead of asking for her help. _She hadn't mind asking for help last night though. She hadn't mind being touched._ But Rachel would never be brave enough to talk back.

"I've brought a paste," Rachel said, pointing to a small bowl over the corner table. "It's what we use to make it hurt less and heal well. It can be dangerous if it gets infected." Quinn didn't say anything, but she looked to the floor instead of facing Rachel - and Rachel knew she was at least considering it. "You can't apply it yourself, miss Quinn. You wouldn't reach them."

"Fine." Quinn huffed. Rachel figured she should be in much more pain than she was showing, to give up so easily. Or maybe she wanted Rachel's hand on her more than she was willing to admit to herself. More than Rachel wanted to touch her again. Rachel didn't think that was possible.

Rachel decided she was done thinking things had changed - the same way she thought she was done being bothered under her stomach with memories of the night before.

But Quinn slightly lowered her shifts and Rachel knew for sure she wouldn't ever be done so easily. Only the sight of Quinn's wounded and bruised back already made her legs tremble - but just as Quinn, she wouldn't show. She wouldn't let Quinn know. If Quinn was going to act like nothing happened, so would she. But that didn't mean she couldn't push Quinn as far as she could.

She gently applied the paste mixed with herbs on the wounds, and ran her nails through the parts of skin that were unaffected. Quinn could act as tough and mean as she wanted, but she couldn't hide the way the little hairs in the back of her neck rose to Rachel's touch. And Rachel couldn't hide her smile.

Quinn could try to conceal her feelings all she wanted, but Rachel knew her enough to realize she wasn't the only one sensing the change in their relationship. Suddenly, she found herself looking forward to the future to come. She would make Quinn crack again, even if it was the last thing she did. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Quinn understood now why everyone had always told her she should wait until marriage to have sex. The intimacy the act brought just shouldn't happen between two people who aren't together. She didn't know how to deal with it. She tried to avoid Rachel, but the second soft hands were on her wounds she felt her body quivering. That's why she didn't want Rachel cleaning her wounds. She didn't want to feel Rachel's hand on her again, because she feared how her body would react to it. And all her fears were confirmed right when a fingertip met her back. If anything, her body just craved for more of what it had the other night. She tried to ignore it, but Rachel scratched her and she had to swallow back a moan. She tried being her old self and treating Rachel coldly, but she simply knew Rachel would never look at her the same way.

She wasn't above Rachel anymore. She would consider herself lucky if she could say they were side by side, but honestly, she suspected Rachel saw her below now - and she couldn't exactly blame the girl. Her body begged for more. As the wounds healed, they itched and tortured Quinn all day long with memories and lust to have them opened again. She looked at Rachel differently - she tried to restrain herself to do so only when Rachel wasn't looking, but Rachel had caught her eyes more than a few times. She knew Rachel could tell.

But she couldn't ask for more. She couldn't ask for it. Not again. It was humiliating. She didn't even remember how she got the courage in the first place. In the meantime, she tried to establish how their new relationship would work. She tried to regain Rachel's respect, even if by a different way this time. The circumstances were different. Once her brother confirmed her suspects that Rachel and her had indeed had sex, she figured she hadn't nothing else to lose. Done it once or a few more times, didn't change a thing. She had messed up, and couldn't take it back. She should as well enjoy it.

If she ever wanted Rachel to take her again, she knew she would have to keep surrendering her power. It was the price to pay to the sinful choices she made. And she would pay it over and over again.

Quinn left the small library after one of her classes to find Rachel standing in the hall, looking marveled at the canvas hanging on the wall. It wasn't the first time Quinn had found Rachel interested in one of the pieces of art of their house. She even seemed to appreciate Quinn's pieces as she worked on her art lessons, sometimes dropping comments about it. Quinn always scolded her for it, but couldn't deny that her remarks had helped her more than a couple times.

" _La nuit, un Port au clair de lune,_ " Quinn whispered, stopping behind her. Rachel whisked her head back in surprise and folded her hands behind her back.

"I'm sorry miss Quinn, I don't understand you," she answered. "Do you need something?"

"That's the name of that painting," Quinn explained, nodding with her head towards the wall. Rachel's mouth fell open for a second, and she turned to face the painting again, raising a single eyebrow - almost as if she was expecting Quinn to surrender. But Quinn couldn't turn back then. "It's a Vernet. One of our most expensive and recent acquisitions." She took a step forward. "He's my father's favorite painter."

"Your father surely has an amazing taste," said Rachel with a nod. Quinn thought about how her eyes shined almost as bright as the moon on the canvas, but shook her head to clear the thoughts away and thanked that Rachel didn't notice it. "It's so… tense. I mean, I don't know what's the context here, of course, but if I had to guess I would think they're waiting for something big to happen. Maybe the light of the moon is their hope."

One week ago, Quinn would have slapped Rachel for being so talkative. She hadn't asked for an opinion. That day, Quinn had no idea of what to do besides clench her jaw to make sure it wouldn't hang open in surprise. Rachel's take on the piece was much deeper than Quinn could imagine it would be for someone like her. She could only imagine how far Rachel could go with a little knowledge.

"Yeah…" Quinn agreed before she could stop herself. Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Maybe." She shrugged, turning to face the opposite wall of the hall. "This one is my favorite one," Quinn said, pointing to the canvas right in front of the library's door.

"I like how you can see the strokes on the canvas," Rachel said, turning to face the one Quinn pointed. "It's almost like you can watch him painting it. Imagine how he did it." She reached out and ran the tip of her finger along the pillow pictured. Quinn wanted to slap her hand and tell her about how the oil in their fingers would destroy the painting - just like her mother had taught her. "You can almost feel how soft that pillow was."

" _La Liseuse_ ," said Quinn. Rachel frowned again, so she explained. "The reader. It's a Fragonard. He's my inspiration. I'm looking forward to buying another one by him, called The Swing. It's just marvelous." Quinn found herself enjoying the conversation. Rachel's eyes lit up with every new piece of information, and Quinn wanted to tell more and more. She had to stop herself from telling Rachel about her other favorite painting by Fragonard. _Le Baiser à la dérobée._ The stolen kiss.

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth and Quinn back to her senses. "I always thought that was a picture of you, miss Quinn!"

"Me?" Quinn furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head upon Rachel's nod. "Nonsense." As if her mother would ever let a picture of her be hang in one of the main rooms of the house. That was a privilege held only by Frannie, with her one year old picture hanging right by the drawing room's fireplace. Besides, Quinn didn't think she would ever be as beautiful as the woman in the picture. But Rachel was better off without knowing any of that.

"Quinn! I've been looking for you!" George approached them on the hallway and Quinn subconsciously took one step further away from Rachel. She felt like he caught something he shouldn't have, even though nothing was happening, so she smiled in an effort to make herself look natural. "Would you like to go to the beach?"

"The beach?" Quinn frowned. "We never go to the beach!" Their mother would never let them go as children, and they simply never got the habit. Most of the time Quinn even forgot that the constant dull noise she could hear at night came right from the ocean.

"It's about time we change that, isn't it?" He winked, throwing a towel on his shoulder. "I'm gathering my stuff. I would really enjoy if you gave me te pleasure of your company. We leave in 10 minutes," he completed, as if he knew Quinn wouldn't say no to him. He wasn't wrong.

"What should I take to the beach?" She turned around to Rachel, furrowing her eyebrows further in concern. Rachel raised her shoulders and Quinn realized that hadn't been her smartest move - if she had never been to the beach, Rachel nonetheless.

It was the longest conversation they ever held. Quinn felt her hands shaking. Her back still hurt from the wounds. She was far from comfortable, talking so casually to one of her slaves. But if giving up her power was what it took for her to feel that pain - that _pleasure_ again, she would do so, little by little. She only had to be careful no one could see it.

* * *

Rachel held the sun umbrella over Quinn, and tried not to drop it once they stepped on the sand and she saw the immensity of the ocean in front of her. She had seen it by windows or as they walked around on the horses, but she had never been so close to it. She closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze, and almost didn't realize Quinn had stood up. She got herself up, moving with the umbrella to make sure Quinn wouldn't be exposed to the sun, but Quinn stopped her.

"You can wait here, I'm just gonna dip my toes in the water," Quinn said.

"But miss Quinn, you shouldn't be under all this sun!" she argued with a nervous laugh. Deep down, she wanted to do the same - but she didn't know if she was allowed to. However, even if she were, she didn't know if she had the courage for it. The ocean looked angry, and Rachel felt safer admiring it from a distance.

"I'll be fine."

Quinn was gone before she could argue any further. Rachel always felt a little lost without Quinn around. She had no idea what to do with the umbrella in her hand, so she moved it to cover George. He gently pushed her arm away, and Rachel frowned.

"I'm enjoying the sun, Rachel," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back on the sand, but winking at her. "But thank you anyway."

"You're welcome," she whispered.

No one had ever thanked her before. She was only doing her job after all.

Her eyes immediately wandered back to Quinn's direction and she couldn't help a smile when she watched Quinn giggling as the waves hit her feet. She looked so different. Softer than the Quinn she tried to portray herself as. Lighter than the Quinn she revealed to be in that particular night.

Rachel wondered how many different people Quinn carried inside of her.

"You're care about her, huh?" George asked, catching her glaze. Rachel blushed and looked down.

"It's my job, sir," she replied. George nodded with an ironic smile, and Rachel tried to explain her motives further. "I just don't think she should be getting all that sun. She could get a sunburn."

"She has a lot of clothes on, she will be fine," he said. Rachel couldn't argue that - Quinn had been wearing a lot more layers of clothes, afraid someone would see her healing wounds. "Besides, she would look beautiful tanned."

"Oh, no, sir! She's white!" Rachel shook her head perplexed. Not that she doubted Quinn would look beautiful in a darker complexion, she just couldn't imagine Quinn lowering herself that much.

"A little tan on her skin wouldn't change the privileges she already has," he said. Again, Rachel couldn't argue. "But most of all, her skin color could change, but it wouldn't change who she is. Who she really is, on the inside."

"Why would she change her skin color when everyone wants to be white like her?" Rachel scoffed lightly. She wouldn't do that in front of any other one of the Fabrays, but she knew George was different. She knew he had the bigger heart - and mind - in the family.

"You know you aren't black, right, Rachel?" he asked, propping himself on his elbows. Rachel blushed again.

"My skin might not be the darkest, sir, but the blood in my veins is. My heart is black," she whispered. It felt more than surreal to be discussing that with a white man. "And I'm treated like one."

"Do you believe in God, Rachel?" he asked, and Rachel frowned again at the sudden change of subject.

"Of course, sir." She nodded vigorously.

"God won't judge you for the color of your skin, but for who you were while you lived," he said. Rachel gulped. "Your skin might be darker than mine, but by God we're all the same. For me, you could as well be a sister. And I want you to remember that."

"Thank you, sir," Rachel replied. She narrowed her eyes, trying to avoid tears from pooling. If only everyone thought like George. If only Quinn did. Quinn. Her eyes found Quinn again, and she felt a tug on her stomach. The simple sight of Quinn smiling made her insides twitch. And the worst part was not to know weather it was still out of anger. Would she still be so unnervingly attracted to Quinn if the situation was different? _Would the fire inside her heart still be there?_

"You can count on me if you ever need anything, Rachel," George went on, and once again caught her gazing. "But I'm sure you won't need anything. She cares about you too, and I know things are getting better. She's coming back to herself. You two will be fine."

Rachel felt lightheaded. It was almost as if he knew. _Did he know?_ He couldn't. Quinn would never have told him, she was sure. He could just be bluffing. She shrugged, trying to act indifferent and swallowed the lump in her throat.

But then Quinn caught her eyes.

And she wondered if they really would be fine.

And she wondered if she _wanted_ to be fine.

* * *

Quinn swayed with the waves and danced around in twirls with the sea shells. The sea shined bright blue against the cloudy sky and Quinn closed her eyes to breath in deeply the strong salt smell. She would have loved this so much as a child. She would have swum her life out. She couldn't help wondering, _what other things had her mother deprived her from?_

She opened her eyes for a second, and found Rachel and George looking at each other. Her heart boiled. She didn't like the fact she couldn't understand what they were saying from so far, but she didn't want to interrupt either. They looked fine. If Quinn didn't know, she could even think they were just a couple sitting on the sand on a warm day.

There was no way one could tell Rachel was a slave.

But she knew. And her mother knew. And no one would ever agree with the whole madness she was getting herself into. It would be just one more thing her mother would take away from her. But then Rachel caught her eyes.

Rachel was on the beach with George - the most beautiful man Quinn had ever met - and she caught Quinn's eyes. As if she didn't even care what he was saying. Rachel caught Quinn's eyes and Quinn shivered. Her mother would never take this away from her. No one could ever take that away from her.


	14. Chapter 14

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

"Miss Quinn!" Rachel yelled, running down the stairs. "I've been looking for you! Weren't you supposed to be taking your classes right now?"

Quinn looked up with squinted eyes to find Rachel blocking the sun. Rachel swallowed hard, realizing Quinn had been working on the garden alone all morning. She hoped she hadn't been called, because she knew how angry Quinn would get when she wasn't answered. But Quinn doesn't yell or scold her. Quinn blinks, and goes back to working on her dry bushes.

"Do you need any help?" Rachel asked, bringing her hands together behind her back and taking a step closer.

"No," said Quinn.

Quinn hadn't punished her ever since the night they were together. She wasn't as mean as she used to be either. In fact, in several times, when no one was around, she would even try to be somewhat nice to Rachel - although not nearly as nice as one would expect after such an intimate act, even under the circumstances theirs had happened. But most of the time, Rachel just felt her more closed up. And it drove her nuts that she never knew what to expect - what version of Quinn would show up on the next morning.

"Do you think right now it's the best time to plant new seeds? I mean, it's almost winter…" Rachel knew she was pushing it. Quinn opened her mouth to say something, but swallowed air and closed her mouth and eyes for a moment. Rachel would give the world to know what crossed Quinn's mind in that fraction of a second.

"I've tried planting them every season. _That's_ not the problem," Quinn replied in a low growl.

"Well, what's the problem then?" Rachel asked. Quinn looked up at her again, but her eyes weren't as bland as before. They carried the fire Rachel knew so well, and it made her lick her lips unconsciously. Quinn shook her head, and planted another seed onto the ground. Rachel wanted to grab her by the back of her head to catch her attention, and ask again until her question got answered. But George walked in to the garden, and the distraction made her remember her place.

"Quinn!" He shouted, getting his sister's attention and a smile. Something Rachel would never get. "Rachel," he acknowledged her presence with a nod. Another thing Rachel never got from anyone else. "Mother said you are to go to the city to have a final fitting of your birthday dress," he said, turning his attention back to Quinn. "Would you like me to take you?"

"Well, yes, I would love that!" Quinn cheered with a nod, getting up and patting down her dress. "Will you just give me a couple minutes to get clean and ready?"

"Of course! I'll see you by the front door in half an hour!" George winked, waving his hand as he left. For a second Rachel thought the wave was in her direction. She was to meet a master as kind as George.

"Get ready," said Quinn, leaving her tools on the ground for Rachel to pick up. "You're coming with me."

Rachel couldn't see Quinn's face. Quinn's couldn't see hers either. If she could, maybe Rachel would have hidden the huge smile that hang in there.

It drove Rachel nuts to never know what to expect from Quinn - but she was learning that sometimes being surprised wasn't so bad.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1778_

"Sleeping already," George chuckled, pointing his head towards Quinn, who had her head against the carriage's window. "Mama Minda always teased Quinn about her inability to stay awake inside a moving carriage. Has she told you that?"

Rachel shook her head. It's not like Quinn ever told her anything, anyway.

"I'm not sleeping yet, so you should watch out what you say, brother," said Quinn, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Do you remember how you used to pretend you were still asleep when we got home, only so that she would carry you inside?" George asked, leaning forward and propping his elbows onto his knees. Quinn knit her eyebrows together and shut her lips in a thin line. "I always thought it was amazing how her arms could be strong enough to carry us both, and still so soft. I always felt so safe in her arms."

"Quit it, George," Quinn groaned, opening her eyes with a frown. "I don't like talking about her."

"Oh, come on, Quinn. Why not?" He asked, but Quinn only opened her eyes to send him a glare that would make him wish he hadn't asked. Rachel was more than intrigued, but she knew better than to ask any questions - especially after Quinn's reaction. "You're the only one I can share those memories with, Quinn. It's the only way we can keep her alive."

"Well, she's dead. So if you don't mind, I will go back to my sleep now." Quinn closed her eyes again, but George hadn't had enough yet.

"She used to take care of us," he said, looking towards Rachel. "She treated us as if we were her own children. She couldn't read, but she picked up our books and made up stories to go with all the pictures so that we would fall asleep with something good in our minds. Even after I learned how to read, I pretended I didn't know it, just because her stories were always so much better. She was so wise."

Rachel's eyes beamed. It didn't take long for her to figure they were talking about a slave, and it warmed her heart to see George, the epitome of a white boy, talking so kindly about the woman. Quinn eventually opened her eyes too, and Rachel could almost swear she saw a vague smile in there somewhere. George went on.

"We would wake up earlier than mother - sometimes even before sun rise - just so that we could run to the kitchen house and have breakfast with her," said George. The smile that hang on his face made Rachel want to wrap her arms around him and keep him there forever. He was too good for the world he was raised on. "We still had to sit at the dining room with mother and father once they were awake, but I swear to you the food tasted much better when we ate with all the other children that used to spend the day at the kitchen house."

"I never ate porridge again after she…" Quinn trailed off. "I was frightened it wouldn't taste the same. No one could cook like she did." George nodded enthusiastically, and Quinn blushed - but went on. "Father always brought me the best china dolls from his trips, but my favorite one was the corncob doll she made for me. It drove mother crazy."

Rachel froze when she realized Quinn was looking in her direction. It hadn't crossed her mind that Quinn was opening up to her. But Quinn must have realized it at the same time Rachel did, because she soon shook her head and looked down. Closing up again.

"But please, George," Quinn murmured. "It hurts me to talk about this."

George grabbed her hand sympathetically and they drove the rest of the way in silence - except for the relentless thoughts in Rachel's head, that wandered all over with questions about who was that woman and what had happened to her. What could be so extremely sad as to make Quinn - the strongest person she knew - hurt just from thinking about it?

Rachel wanted to dive in to Quinn's head and learn everything that went through there. Curiosity consumed her. But for the time, she could settle for the few moments where Quinn and George would leave their distinctions behind and talk so casually to her.

* * *

"My beautiful miss Quinn!" An old black woman said, walking in to the room with her arms up. Quinn nodded in acknowledgment and smiled gently as the woman greeted her and George. "You are not to believe how beautiful your new gown looks!"

"I'm looking forward to know what you have been working on, Irene. I'm certain it will be as amazing as always," said George.

"Oh, let's not waste anymore time, then! This way my dear," said the woman, pulling Quinn by the hand towards a room in the back. "Ida will help you get dressed so that we can do the fitting."

"That won't be necessary!" Quinn said, a little too harshly. She cleared her throat and smiled a quiet apology. "I have brought my slave to help me get dressed."

Quinn knew she probably wouldn't have to slip out of her shifts to try on the gown, but still, she would rather not take any chances. It wouldn't be easy to explain to an ex-slave why she had so many marks across her back - even though they were nearly all healed.

"Oh, my! That's a fine slave you got for yourself, miss Quinn! Isn't she fine, Ida?" The older woman asked, and a girl about Quinn's age peaked her head out of the door with a huge smile and a wistful nod.

Quinn felt a tug in her stomach.

"I wouldn't be able to tell she was a slave if you hadn't said so, miss Quinn. What a fair complexion she has," said Ida.

Another tug.

"Rachel," Quinn commanded, jerking her head towards the room in the back and ignoring the comments from the other women. George giggled, and Quinn huffed, trying to understand what he could have possibly found funny.

In one thing Irene was right, though. The dress was simply beautiful. The light green corset wrapped Quinn's ribs like a hug, and the white ruffles on the hem of the sleeves made her arms feel like wings. She swirled in front of the mirror, only then catching Rachel's eyes.

Rachel had seen her naked, in her most vulnerable and intimate state, and still Quinn hadn't felt as self-conscious as when she felt Rachel's eyes on her at that moment. Rachel's eyes shined in a way Quinn wasn't sure she had seen before, and it made her shiver.

"Do you like it?" Quinn asked, before realizing she was most likely putting herself out there further than she ever intended to.

But before she could have an answer, Irene and Ida had stormed inside the room. Hands were all over her - _but none of them were Rachel's_. They felt foreign, even though she had been in that exact same room more times than she could count. She found herself wanting to wrap her arms around herself - but held herself back to let the women do their job.

They adjusted her gown in all the right places and made it fall even more perfectly around her shy curves. Once she forced herself to relax, she was so enchanted with her own figure she almost missed the expression of adoration in Rachel's face, as she watched the two black women working.

The tug in her stomach was even harder this time.

It was natural that Rachel would idolize Irene and Ida. The women had been slaves and bought their freedom with the money of their hard work. It wasn't frequent, but it was what every slave aimed for. Not everyone had the talent it took to be a highly skilled artisan though, and most of all, Irene and Ida had been lucky. Most masters weren't kind enough to sell a slave's freedom. Quinn knew she would never do the same.

And that's why Quinn didn't mind that Rachel looked up to Irene and Ida. What she simply hated was that something else was grabbing Rachel's attention, while she was wearing her birthday gown - the gown that was supposed to bring all the eyes from the ballroom in her direction. Everyone should be looking at her. But everyone could be looking at her, and she would still would be unsettled until she got on her the pair of eyes that brought her alive.

"I think we have everything we need," said Irene, setting a pin on the cushion wrapped around her wrist. "When you're ready, I will be waiting with George in my office so that we can arrange the payment."

Quinn wasn't exactly comfortable with all the efforts Ida was putting into starting a conversation with Rachel as they helped her out of her gown. She didn't want the woman putting the wrong ideas in Rachel's mind while she was away, and she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that was only confirmed when she finished the payment and went to grab Rachel as they were ready to leave.

Getting into the room in the back, Quinn found Rachel giggling with Ida and swaying in a gown that was without a doubt not hers. It wasn't Quinn's either. The gown was longer than Rachel's short legs, but the peach and golden mix shined against her skin just right. Quinn swallowed hard.

It wasn't like she had never seen Rachel in a gown before. She could still remember how speechless she was when she found Rachel on her way to the crossover party, but _this_ \- it was nothing like that. The gown Rachel wore carried a luxury she could never afford, and made Quinn want to rip all out of her body.

Everyone's eyes were supposed to be in her, not in Rachel. She was to be the star of the party, not Rachel. Rachel was merely a slave.

_Then why she felt like she would never look as beautiful as Rachel did at that moment?_

Quinn just couldn't take another tug in her stomach. She felt her blood boiling inside of her, and could swear she was about to explode. Rachel froze seeing her, which only drove her further.

Marching her way through the room, she slapped her hand hard across Rachel's face.

"Get out of this," Quinn growled. "Get out of this gown right now!"

"Oh my God!" Irene half-yelled walking in to the room behind Quinn. "Ida, dear, this is so inappropriate! I apologize, miss Quinn! She doesn't know what she's doing! I apologize!"

"Is everything alright in there?" George asked with a knock on the door.

"Everything is fine," Quinn shouted back, feeling the heat emerging from her face as she slammed the door open and stormed out of the room. "We are ready to leave."

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1778_

Rachel wasn't naive enough to believe Quinn was taking her to the city just to make her happy. Still, she took advantage of the opportunity to make peace with the so longing memories she had in that place. She had always heard her mother talking about the marvelous countryside life, but Rachel had always been a city girl. She was reassured by the constant noises on the streets and felt the presence of her mother in every corner of the streets.

Her mother. As she laid to sleep, not even the pouring rain outside was loud enough to make her stop hearing her mother's agonizing groans. It's the kind of thing that sticks to you, and rang in her ears for years. And to think it was all Quinn's fault, only made her angrier. It was almost as if Quinn was determined to end any source of happiness Rachel had in her life.

Except for _one_. She didn't know what it meant of her that one of her happiest memories was in the moment she was so close to the person she hated the most. She didn't know how to stop the battles inside her head, from wanting to rip Quinn's neck or wanting to suck on it hard enough to make her moan again.

Quinn's moans. Another sound that wouldn't leave her ears, and it felt almost sinful to have it share the place with her mother's worst moments.

Rachel hated Quinn with all heart. Still, when she dreamed of Quinn's lips so near her, it made her smile. And if she wasn't asleep, she would swear the place she dreamed Quinn had kissed her felt hotter than the fireplace placed on the other room.

* * *

There's something particular about the pouring rain at night after a hot sunny day in the Caribbean that always moves Quinn. The air isn't as thick, and the breezy wind cleared her head while bringing a melancholy and nostalgia for something she couldn't quite place. From the other room, she could hear the sound of a soft night breathing and wondered when exactly did she stop fearing Rachel would kill her in her sleep and started being comforted by Rachel's presence so close.

They didn't share a word during the ride back from Basseterre. George tried to start a conversation, but soon enough realized Quinn wasn't in the mood - although not understanding her reasons. Quinn would rather keep it that way. She knew George would defend Rachel, which would only drive her angrier. Rachel blinked and got everyone at her feet. She didn't have to speak a world and the whole world was infatuated by her.

Quinn didn't understand it. If anything, she found Rachel infuriating.

The memories of Rachel and Ida swaying through the room flooded her head, and she bit her lip remembering how carefree and relaxed Rachel seemed. A different version of the Rachel she was so used to. A version she would perhaps never have the pleasure to meet. The very same version Rachel showed to everyone else. _Then why not Quinn?_

Quinn had always thought of herself as someone confident, but even that was starting to shatter. Rachel was ruining her life, and there was no amount of punishment she could lay on her that would bring back the peace she once had. But even then, not once it crossed her mind to get rid of Rachel.

Rachel was ruining her life, and she found herself standing by the door watching Rachel asleep. Her chest rose with every breath, and a smile appeared on her lips. Quinn felt again the now so familiar tug in her stomach. Rachel's happiness bothered her, and she had no idea why. The thought of having Rachel dreaming and smiling made her feel betrayed. If she wouldn't get a smile from Rachel, no one else should. Not that she _wanted_ a smile. She wanted respect. She wanted fear. And she wanted Rachel's arms around her, ripping her apart like they had before.

The thoughts were almost as contradicting as her feelings. Confusion flew all over the room, and Quinn couldn't make it stop. Perhaps that's why before she could come to her senses, she found herself kneeling by Rachel's thin mattress. It's not that she regretted the slapping Rachel that afternoon. But when she saw the faded mark of her fingernail on Rachel's cheek, she couldn't fight the urge to lean forward and drop a soft kiss on the spot.

And suddenly, everything warmed up inside her again. And this time, not even the pouring rain would be able to cool her down.

* * *

"Oh, Mama Minda was a blessing to all of us! She raised me, too!" Said Abbie, with her hands crossed on top of her heart.

Curiosity was killing Rachel. She made sure to wake before Quinn did, just so that she could run into the kitchen house and have the time to ask Abbie about the woman George and Quinn talked to affectionally about.

"Really?" Rachel knit her eyebrows together. "I thought she had only taken care of the master's kids."

"No, no! She raised every single one of the children slaves back in my day. She only came up to the mansion when Quinn was born, because miss Judy refused to take care of her," explained Abbie. "But even then, she would bring the small kids to the kitchen house and they would play with George and Quinn as if there wasn't one single difference between them."

"What happened to her?" Rachel asked, propping her elbows in the table and leaning forward in curiosity.

"There was an uprising down the quarters and she got killed," said Abbie, before leaning closer to Rachel and lowering her voice. "Or that's what people believe. I've heard rumors that miss Judy ordered her killed."

"Why would she do that?" Rachel asked in a high pitched tone, but Abbie covered her mouth with a hand.

"Why wouldn't she?" Abbie gave her the shoulders. "Everything went exactly as she wanted afterwards. Master sold all the kids slaves, and she was able to make Quinn turn out exactly like her. George went to study abroad, something she always wished but never could."

"That's… ruthless," Rachel murmured with a quivering lip.

"Well, that's miss Judy," Abbie sighed. "In the end I think she was just jealous of the relationship the kids developed with Mama Minda. She couldn't deal with the fact that George liked her best. She's a difficult person, but she's been through a lot. I wouldn't want to walk in her shoes for a day."

"So I've heard," said Rachel. She wasn't exactly sure what had happened in that farm before she arrived, but she knew that for a mother to deny her child like miss Judy had done with Quinn, something terrible must have happened. "Does miss Quinn know?"

"Oh, I don't think she does. She wouldn't have forgiven her. You have no idea how different she was before all of that happened!" Abbie shook her head with a faint smile in her face. "But then, again, it's only a rumor, Rachel. And you certainly don't need to get in deeper trouble by spreading it around."

"Cross my heart and hope to die!" Rachel played.

"To be honest, I'm very surprised she talked to you about that. Even though you said George pushed her, I never heard she mentioning Mama Minda since that day. I actually thought she had forgotten about her, because she was little when it happened." Abbie shrugged. "I guess that just proves once again what I've told you before, little Rachel."

"What?"

"In your own way, you have been earning a weird side of miss Quinn that no one has ever gotten to see," said Abbie. Rachel blushed, and she giggled. "Maybe the old Quinn is coming back. I sure hope she does!"

* * *

"Has George left?" Quinn asked, crossing her legs as she sat on a chair in the library.

"Yes, miss Quinn. He went off to see a patient and I was told he isn't to be expected to come back until tomorrow," answered Rachel. Quinn quirked an eyebrow.

"You sure are informed of what's going on around here," said Quinn. Rachel looked down and clasped her hands behind her back. Only then Quinn realized Rachel could have taken that as a compliment. Only then Quinn realized that the compliment might have been intentional. "Would you perhaps know at what time my guest is arriving?"

"She's supposed to be here anytime now, miss Quinn," said Rachel.

Quinn groaned and hid her face on her palms - only to be distracted by Rachel's giggle. She raised her head again, and Rachel took a step back. It was Quinn's turn to giggle. Rachel was lucky she wasn't in a bad mood that morning.

"You really do enjoy to see me suffering, don't you?" Quinn stood up, taking a step forward in Rachel's direction. Rachel didn't falter, and instead, cocked her head to the side with a small shrug as she bit down a smile. Quinn gasped at her recklessness, but she was saved by the bell when Brittany walked into the room with a loud slamming of the door. That was Brittany. Always loud. Quinn could already feel her head starting to hurt.

"Quinn!" Brittany exclaimed with small little jumps. Quinn gave her a fake smile that somehow was enough encouragement for the girl to come in her direction and tackle her in an unwanted hug. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too, Brittany," said Quinn with a sigh. She would be damned if Brittany could ever sense her ironies.

They had been friends since Quinn could remember. Brittany was the friend her mother always wanted her to have - and maybe that's why Quinn never quite liked her. There was nothing particularly wrong with her, but she was just too much. Quinn didn't like socializing, and Brittany required too much of her attention. It would never work.

But Quinn couldn't miss the second Brittany noticed Rachel in the corner, and how her eyebrow rose in surprise. Still, she didn't acknowledge Quinn's slave. It was natural. Quinn had never acknowledged or greeted a slave either - that was something only George did, and everyone knew how odd George was. But still. Something unsettled Quinn. She didn't like when everyone's attention was turned to Rachel, but she certainly didn't like when people dismissed her either. Only she could do that. Only she could treat Rachel like that.

"So, what has happened in this farm since the last time I came over?" Brittany asked, but before Quinn could even take a breath to answer, she was interrupted. "Oh, Quinn, you won't believe this! Do you know Anthony? The younger brother from that farm all the way up in…"

And Quinn had tuned her out already. That was one of the thousand reasons why she hated socializing so much. She could never engage a conversation. Growing up alone, she had never learned how to. She didn't like gossiping about other people's life, but at the same time, she didn't feel like she had knowledge enough to engage in intelligent conversations such as the ones her brother shared with his friends.

She was stuck, and maybe that was the reason why she had been growing more and more fond of the small moments where she decided to let her guard down and talked to Rachel. Of course, she never forgot her place. But it didn't hurt to only sometimes have someone to whom she could talk to and know that she was being listened - even if only by obligation. It also felt _nice_ to know that whenever she told anything for Rachel, it was always something new for her. It made Quinn feel smart.

What didn't feel nice, was the realization that Rachel was conceivably her only friend. The realization that as long as she had Rachel there, she was fine. She didn't need anyone else. And that in reality, she didn't mind that one bit.

* * *

"Quinn?" Her mother yelled, banging her hand on the table top as she walked in the dining room where Quinn ate alone. If George and her father weren't home, she already knew not to count with her mother's company. "Did I hear the rumors right? Did you just shove Brittany out? _Again_?"

"Mother, that's rather overstated," she replied with a huff, bringing a spoon full of soup to her mouth. She could almost see the smoke coming out of her mother's boiling head. "I simply told her that she was to leave, since I had an appointment with my dancing instructor."

"You don't have dance classes today, Quinn!" Judy shouted back with a stomp of her feet.

"Well, she doesn't know that, does she?" Quinn smirked, but it faded as soon as her mother marched her way closer.

"Quinn Fabray, you don't play with me today because God knows what I might do, now that your two little knights aren't here to save you!" Judy pushed Quinn's plate away. Quinn froze.

By instinct, she glanced to her side and found Rachel looking straight at her direction. With a simple movement of her head, she ordered Rachel out of the room. Suddenly she wasn't comfortable having Rachel as an audience as her mother scolded her once more - even if Rachel had seen it multiple times before.

"I honestly don't know what you were expecting me to do," Quinn replied with a roll of her eyes. "I already entertained her for the whole afternoon, isn't that enough for you?"

"This is not about me! This is about you!" Judy yelled louder with every phrase that left her mouth, and Quinn fought the urge to wince away. "As a member of this family you have social obligations, whether you like them or not! You are almost sixteen and you will soon be done with your schooling, what are you planning to do then?"

"You're well aware of my plans, mother. I'm gonna stay here, and I'm gonna run the farm. I'm really not up to having this conversation again, you have already tried to convince me this isn't what I should do, but for once in my life I'm sure of a decision and there's nothing you can do to change this."

"Alright, Quinn. That's fair," Judy replied with a nod, but Quinn frowned. She knew it wouldn't end this easily. Things were never easy with her mother. "But _how_ exactly do you plan to do all that? Alone? You will need help from our contacts and you will have to deal with people - you can't just lock yourself inside your little castle and wait for things to fall on your lap."

"That's not what I'm gonna do," Quinn grumbled. Her mother wasn't saying anything new, but it hit a soft spot when she realized once again that she still had a lot to learn.

"I swear to God, Quinn, you are never gonna find a husband while you are secluded like this. I know Brittany is almost engaged already, and you? You don't even try." Judy shook her head with a disdain that Quinn was well used to. "I really hope you take advantage of your birthday ball, because that's my last attempt to help you. I'm tired of doing all the work and having not one ounce of your gratitude."

"Well, what if I don't want a husband?" Quinn shouted back, aware of how childish she would sound to the ears of her mother, but not knowing how else she could react. It was the truth, after all. She had been presented to several men from her father and brother's circles of friendship, but she hadn't found interest in any of them. She was fine on her own. Her mother shook her head with a scoff.

"You know Quinn, I just hope you die alone. Maybe then you'll learn how not to be such a ungrateful little wench."

* * *

When Quinn walked inside her bedroom and found Rachel making her bed, she sighed in relief. Rachel was all she needed to make the fight she just had go away. Rachel was there, and it was exactly what she needed.

After locking the door, Quinn ran in Rachel's direction - before she could change her mind. She grabbed Rachel by the hair and felt something fluttering inside her at the sound of Rachel's gasp in surprise. But before Rachel could say anything else, she crashed their lips together. Quinn pulled and sucked and licked Rachel's bottom lip, but Rachel stood there stiff.

Quinn frowned, and pulled Rachel's hair tighter attempting to get some kind of reaction - but again, Rachel didn't move. Quinn let go of her lips, and tried to find something in her eyes - but they were closed. So she resorted to what she knew how to do the best. To the way Rachel responded better - or worse, depending on the point of view.

Quinn slapped Rachel. She barely had the time to draw in a breath when Rachel slapped her back. Her mouth fell opened. If anything, this wasn't what she expected. Quinn took one step forward and thought of all the ways she could kill Rachel for that. But instead, she closed her eyes and waited. She didn't know what would come, but she still craved it.

And she knew it was all worth it the moment Rachel grabbed her by the shoulders and in a swift flip tossed her with her back on the bed. Quinn felt the air being kicked out of her lungs as Rachel slapped her again, crawling on top of her. Her lungs collapsed when Rachel's mouth met the skin on her neck, and with one firm bite, Quinn wasn't sure she would make out of it alive.

Her first moan escaped when Rachel flicked her tongue on Quinn's earlobe. By the time she nipped on it, Quinn had to bite down her lip to avoid a scream from coming out. She had forgotten it. She knew the first time they had slept together felt amazing, but she had absolutely forgotten how _intense_ it felt. How her skin felt on fire all over, and how the feeling of Rachel's wet tongue alone drove her crazy.

She was the one to pull off the ribbons of her stays then. She didn't want to waste any time. Rachel's face when she noticed what Quinn was doing would have made her blush, if all her blood wasn't focusing on where Rachel's hands laid. Rachel flashed a smirk that on any other time would have earned her another slap on the face. But right then, it made Quinn melt further into the bed as her gown was slipped out of her.

Rachel's hand travelled down her body as if they knew it by heart. They pinched just the right places as if they owned it. And perhaps they did, because God knew there was no one else Quinn would allow to do the same things to her. Rachel's mouth caught her breast, and Quinn could see stars behind her eyelids before Rachel even touched her. Her hands flew instinctively to hold Rachel's head in place, but she regretted it immediately when Rachel let go of a nipple to look at Quinn's face.

Quinn licked her lip and tried to push Rachel's head back in place. Rachel scoffed and shook her head. Quinn swallowed dry. Rachel couldn't do that to her. She couldn't stop. And thank God she didn't. Rachel grabbed both of Quinn's hand and pinned them above her head. Quinn squirmed under Rachel's weight, but Rachel used her legs to stop her. There was nowhere she could go. She was laying there, naked and open, at the complete mercy of Rachel. And she could swear it was heaven.

Rachel grabbed Quinn's lips again, and Quinn felt her jaw quivering. Only then she realized how much she missed Rachel's taste, even if after only a few minutes. Rachel's tongue was harsh and impenitent, claiming Quinn's mouth as her own - but at the same time, the second it met Quinn's tongue, it felt like velveteen. When Rachel pulled apart and the cold hard air stroke Quinn's lips, she whimpered - but Rachel slapped her. It was unexpected, unreasonable and preposterous. And maybe that's why Quinn liked it so much.

"Don't move your hands," Rachel whispered just below her ear, letting go of Quinn's hand but keeping them in place above her. Quinn knew better than disobey.

She watched with half-lid eyes as Rachel roamed down her stomach, scraping her teeth not at all gently down her way. She watched as pink marks raised on her pale skin as Rachel went further down, and when she realized where Rachel was aiming to, her stomach dropped. She couldn't control how loud she inhaled air and fear took over her, making her grab the sheets above her head. Rachel seemed pleased, and dug her nails on Quinn's inner thighs as she nuzzled her nose _just too close._

When Rachel's tongue finally met the place Quinn needed the most, her head fell back onto the mattress and she couldn't see anything else. Her mind was clear, just as she had wanted. There was just her, Rachel, and a feeling so huge that she wasn't sure she would be able to keep inside herself. She tried. She bit her lip until it drew blood. She tried harder. She closed her legs against Rachel's head with all her strength. She tried the best she could. But she exploded.

She could only hope no one had heard her loud scream. But her whole body shook with ecstasy and when she opened her eyes to find Rachel with the most mischievous smirk, she knew there was no hope for her. Rachel's fingers started working where her tongue had previously being, and Quinn tried to lift her weight to her elbows and shake her head. She wanted to tell Rachel that she was done.

But Rachel shoved her back down again, and kept going. Each stroke sent a shiver of pain up Quinn's spine. She was all too sensitive and it was all too much. She tried to scoot away, but Rachel held her back. Rachel had always been stronger. She tried closing her legs, she tried wincing but Rachel's finger moved faster and faster and she had no way out.

"Please," Quinn cried out, she didn't know exactly what for. Rachel giggled and shook her head, leaning forward to bite hard on Quinn's thigh.

Every rub hurt more. Each rub became torture. And suddenly, torture became the most unbearable pleasure - and Quinn exploded all over again, collapsing on to the bed. Her vision got darker and for a second she was sure she was going to faint. But then Rachel dropped one single kiss, just under her belly button, and it was enough to mess with Quinn's mind more than anything they had done before.

Quietness fell upon them. But it wasn't as awkward as Quinn expected it to be. In a matter of seconds, Rachel was by her side holding up her night gown. Quinn barely had to move for Rachel to slip in the clothes - not that Quinn would have been able to move if she had to. Rachel pulled the covers over Quinn and stopped by her side, as any other night. As if nothing had happened.

"Do you need anything else, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked.

Quinn frowned and slowly shook her head. It couldn't be that she was the only one who felt like that wasn't right. Not what they had done - _that_ she was sure it wasn't right, but it wouldn't stop her. What felt unbelievably wrong was how casual Rachel could act about all of it. Almost as if she didn't feel the deep connection that Quinn felt building between them each moment their eyes crossed as Rachel stood between Quinn's leg. And perhaps one could still call it an act on impulse after everything that had happened, but Quinn felt sure when her hand stuck out to hold Rachel's arm.

Rachel looked back with a confused frown, and Quinn swallowed air. She couldn't say it - but there was no turning back either. As she scooted away to the middle of the bed, she pulled Rachel to lay down with her. When Rachel attempted to hesitate, Quinn gripped firmer on her arm and pulled her once again. And it was all it took. Rachel was still her slave, even after everything. She still was supposed to abide to her wishes. Maybe that would be a plausible explanation to give for herself when Quinn woke up the next morning. She was just reclaiming her place. Or that's what she tried to convince herself as her legs wrapped around Rachel's and her head laid just a little too close to Rachel's shoulders.

Quinn's breath evened out in a question of seconds. She was calm and relaxed in a way she couldn't recall ever being. Drifting to sleep was just a step away. She was sure Rachel thought she was asleep. If Rachel knew otherwise, she wouldn't be outlining Quinn's face with her fingers. She wouldn't be gently caressing the hickeys on her neck. And she wouldn't be tracing Quinn's lips. But Quinn stood still, pretending to be asleep and hoping Rachel would never stop. Because maybe that was it.

Maybe she really didn't need anyone else. Maybe she really didn't need friends. Maybe she really didn't need a husband. Maybe she just really needed Rachel.


	15. Chapter 15

_Rose Hill, 1778_

* * *

Quinn really was trying to focus on her assigned reading this time, but there was just too much noise coming from the outside, and it was just too loud. She couldn't figure out who was screaming or why it was happening, but she knew she had to find out what was going on. It would be her farm to run one day. She should learn how to deal with a crisis. That definitely sounded more important than Gulliver's Travels.

Rachel followed her down the stairs and into the backyard, where they found George and her father arguing. _So far, nothing new._ But a frown came to Quinn's face when she noticed Malcolm, the overseer, holding Abbie back by her two arms and Dorea's daughter screaming trying to break free from her mother's embrace. She felt her heart racing. The agony the three women carried in their faces made Quinn restless.

"What is going on?" Quinn asked, not really hopeful that they would let her know what was going on. Her father usually told her to get inside whenever something serious happened. He thought he was protecting her. She was sick of it.

"You don't have proof, father!" George shouted, his face bright red from anger. Quinn had never seen him like that. It only made her more curious, knowing that whatever had happened had driven George over his edge. For a second, she wondered if George and Abbie had been together - but she shook her head to herself. He always defended slaves, but he wouldn't go that far. "You can't punish her without knowing if she really did it!"

"George, she isn't even trying to deny it!" Her father scoffed, and Quinn took a step further to stop between the two of them. She couldn't wait anymore. That was enough for her to get some attention. "Quinn, dear, not now!"

"I wanna know what is going on!" Quinn stomped her feet, but it didn't help. Her father looked at her as if she was a small child intruding in the adult's business, and it made her boil inside. The screaming wouldn't stop, and she was more anxious with each second. So she turned to the people she knew couldn't deny her wishes. She walked towards Dorea, with the most serious face she could put on. "Dorea, tell me what is happening right now!"

"Someone said Abbie has been teaching slaves how to read, miss Quinn."

That was all it took. She didn't need to know any more details to figure out which particular slave Abbie had been teaching. With one single look, all her suspicious were confirmed. She met Rachel's eyes and saw them welling up in surprise. Rachel lowered her head to conceal her tears, and Quinn closed her eyes drawing in a sharp breath.

"God dammit, Rachel," she whispered to no one. Quinn liked Abbigail. She was one of the few slaves Quinn remembered from her childhood at the kitchen house. Abbigail had learned how to cook with Mama Minda, and was always around to help taking care of the other children Quinn used to play with. Quinn didn't think it was fair for her to go through any kind of punishments, even though she had broken the rules - because Quinn knew how persuasive Rachel could get. Abbie had never brought them any problems. She knew Rachel must had convinced her. But still, not for a second she thought of turning in Rachel.

Until Rachel did so herself.

"It was me, master," Rachel said, walking to stand between George and Russell with her head up high. Quinn gasped for air. Rachel caught Quinn's father and brother's attention in a way that Quinn never could.

"Rachel," Quinn growled between her teeth, trying to get some sort of eye contact through where she could order Rachel to shut up and stay put by her side. She was trying to come up with a plan to get Abbie out of her punishment, but she couldn't think with all the yelling and it was worse now that Rachel ignored her and flooded her heart with affliction. She tried to grab Rachel by the arm, but Rachel yanked it away. Of course, Rachel never obeyed her when it really mattered.

"What are you saying, girl?" Russell asked, placing one hand on the whip on his hips and furthering the scowl in his face as his other hand reached out to stop Quinn from coming any closer to her slave. Quinn's heart shattered expecting Rachel to come up with an excuse for herself, but knowing she would never.

"I was the only one being taught. I should be punished, not her. She only did so because I forced her. Punish me, not her," said Rachel. She didn't falter once. Quinn felt her legs getting weaker and her eyes bulging out. If she had one shred of Rachel's courage, she would stop all of that in the same minute. She would come between Rachel and her father, and would tell her father she was the one to pick the punishment because it was _her_ slave. But she never had Rachel's courage.

"Bloody girl," Russell groaned, whipping the earth beneath their feet. "Let go of her, Malcolm," her ordered. Abbie fell onto the ground, with tears running down her cheeks and an incessantly shake of head. "Come on," he only moved his head once and Malcolm had already taken Rachel by the arms. Quinn's heart had never beaten so fast. "It's time we teach this girl how things work around here. Watch and learn, Quinn. I assure you, you won't have any more troubles with her after today."

Quinn tried exchanging a glance with George as Malcolm shoved Rachel towards the pole, but George looked even more shocked than she did. A man Quinn had never seen before began ripping off Rachel's clothes, and her breath was caught in surprise and fear. Although Rachel had seen her before, Quinn had never seen Rachel naked - and the simple thought of having so many people watching her without a single cloth covering her body made Quinn's eyes water. She grabbed George's arm for the support she so longingly needed, but he jerked it away.

"Are you really gonna let them do this, Quinn?" he asked, shaking his head and taking one step away from her. He looked disgusted. He couldn't know how Quinn was feeling at the moment. Not even she knew what she was feeling - but it didn't feel good at all. "She's _yours_ , Quinn."

"George, please," she whispered shaking her head - but he moved further away. He wouldn't give her the chance to explain herself, but it wasn't like she knew what to say either.

Quinn felt the ground around her spinning. She closed her eyes and tried to think of a way out of the situation, but Rachel was just impossible. She knew for sure that even if she attempted to change things, Rachel's pride wouldn't let her help. Quinn thought that maybe if she fainted her father would be distracted by it and maybe nothing would happen to Rachel. But then she heard his voice, and had to open her eyes.

"Would you like to count, Quinn?" His eyes shined. She had done it many, many times before. She had seen slaves falling dead onto the ground after more whips than they could take. It would just be one more time. But she couldn't. It was all too different now. She couldn't do empathy until it was shoved in her face and she simply couldn't ignore it anymore. She could never do it again after knowing how it felt. How each whip would sting against Rachel's back. Quinn felt her own scars burning, and her lip trembled between her teeth. "Well?" He asked again.

Quinn just shook her head. Russell frowned, and Quinn saw it in his face. That was it. She had disappointed him. She was supposed to be doing the whipping by her own one day. She shouldn't be running away from it. But she looked from her father's eyes to Rachel's, and she knew which one she had to choose. Rachel's eyes met hers, and she felt a tear slipping away from the corner of her eye. She didn't bother wiping it off. She couldn't keep herself together. She would rather look down than watch it.

"I'm not gonna watch this," said George, with both his hands up, giving up as he walked back to the house. "I'm not gonna be a part of this."

Quinn envied him. He had a choice. He had made out of the island and he didn't have their father's expectations on his back. He could simply walkaway, whereas Quinn knew if she did the same she would lose the little respect she had in that house. George didn't have her responsibilities. But he didn't have Rachel either. He couldn't judge Quinn. He didn't know how hard that was being for her.

Any annoyance Quinn had felt by the fact that other people were seeing Rachel naked quickly vanished with the sound of the first whip. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't wanna see it. But as the whips kept going, Rachel eventually couldn't hold back anymore - and when the first shriek came out of her mouth, Quinn knew she had to stop being a coward. If she couldn't stop her father, the least she could do was to be there for Rachel.

Quinn found Rachel's eyes and locked them. If anything, she hoped her eyes could anchor Rachel. That they would distract her away from the pain. Rachel bit her lip and Quinn mimicked the act. She tried to apologize through her eyes, but she doubted Rachel would notice it. She couldn't understand how the same action that made her so turned on once could make her so turned off as she watched it happen to Rachel. She asked for God's forgiveness for her lack of attitude, but she doubted he would notice her either.

When the first droplet of blood ran down Rachel's neck, Quinn knew she couldn't take it any longer. George was right. Rachel was _hers_ , and no one would get blood out of her. Not while Quinn watched it.

"That's enough," said Quinn, gripping her father's forearm. His eyes grew, and she swallowed hard. The duality inside her head would drive her crazy. She never wanted to disappoint her father, and it cracked her heart to see the regret in his face. But she didn't wanna hurt Rachel. _She didn't wanna hurt Rachel._ When had that happened?

"Quinn, that's not enough," he tried to explain, as if Quinn had stopped him simply because she didn't understand how things were supposed to go. As if she hadn't watched it before. "That's exactly why she is the way she is, causing trouble everywhere she steps. You are going to easy on her. But don't worry, I'm gonna help you fix this girl," he said, shaking his head and giving one more whip. Rachel screeched in surprise. Quinn gripped harder and moved to stop in front of him. Russell's mouth fell open.

"She's _mine_ , father," said Quinn, savoring the words in her mouth. George had always been right. She was Quinn's, and only Quinn's. If Quinn didn't protect her, no one would. "And I said it's enough."

Quinn had never stood up to her father before. She simply never had to. They had always been on the same team. She had no idea how he could react, but she prayed that his undying love for her wouldn't be forgotten as she stood between him and his orders.

"Be careful, my daughter," said Russel, placing a hand on top of Quinn's and rubbing his thumb against her skin. "If you keep listening to George, you are never gonna be able to run this farm. I'm counting on you, Quinn. You better live up to my expectations."

He left, and Quinn fell down on her knees.

* * *

Quinn waited until everyone was asleep. She had defied her father enough for one day - for a whole life time, probably - and she knew she could never count with her mother. Rachel waited in her room, but Quinn didn't even had the courage to take a look at her back. Once she knew she had no chances of getting caught, she knocked on George's door loud enough to wake up him and only him.

"What is it now, Quinn?" He asked with a huff. He was still mad at her. She didn't blame him.

"Come with me," Quinn whispered, grabbing his hand - but he yanked it away, again.

"I'm not precisely in the mood to chat with you right now. I apologize, but if that's all you need I'm heading back to bed," he said, trying to close the door before she stopped him with her feet.

"Rachel. She needs you," Quinn admitted with pleading eyes - but she didn't have to say anything else. No one ever denied Rachel anything. He could be angry at Quinn, but Rachel wasn't the one to blame, and Quinn knew he would help heal her.

Slaves weren't supposed to use the same furniture as their owners, but Quinn didn't even protest when George pulled Rachel to sit on her bed. She had bigger worries on her mind, and she knew George wouldn't judge her for being so permissive. Quinn certainly didn't care either, or else she wouldn't had allowed Rachel to sleep there with her before.

As George excused himself to pull down Rachel's gown, Quinn cringed. She reminded the feeling of having fabric being pulled out of her scars once they were dry, and it hadn't felt good at all. But Rachel stayed put, with her head down as he slowly cleaned the wounds.

"Is it hurting too much?" George asked. Rachel shook her head. "It's only me, Rachel. You can talk to me. I need to know if it hurts too much, alright?" He asked. She nodded. He fumbled around his bag and Quinn gasped when she saw him grabbing a needle.

"What are you gonna do to her?" She asked incredulous. He raised one eyebrow that said more than any words could said. Quinn needed to have defended her earlier, not then. She had to defend Rachel from her father - and perhaps from herself! But never from George.

"I'm gonna give her a few stitches to help the wounds heal faster and cleaner," he explained, before placing his hand on Rachel's arm to grab her attention. "Do you mind, Rachel? It will lower the chances of them getting infected."

"No, sir," she answered in a whisper.

"No, not sir, please!" George chuckled. Quinn tried to do the same, to lighten up the mood, but it just didn't feel natural. The tension from the afternoon was still in her shoulders, and she wasn't sure it was going anywhere anytime soon. "Hold her hand, Quinn."

"What?" Quinn half-yelled in surprise. George sighed again.

"I need her to stay as still as possible. She needs to channel her pain so that she won't move. Let her squeeze your hand, please?"

There was no way Quinn could refuse it after the tone George used, bringing all the guilt of the world to her back. He didn't have to. She would have held Rachel's hand anyway. She had just been caught in surprise by his request. As the needle went in, Quinn felt Rachel's grip on her hand tightening. She tried to rub her thumb against Rachel's palm to comfort her - but she doubted Rachel even felt it, among everything.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," George murmured in a sigh. Quinn thought he was talking about the stitches, but he went on. "I wish there was something I could have done. I really do. You really didn't deserve this. None of you do. And you're the strongest and the bravest for taking all of that quietly. You have no idea of the admiration I have for you."

Quinn gripped Rachel's hand tighter. George had put into words what she felt but could never admit out loud - or to herself. Rachel glanced up at her, and guilt washed over once more. Quinn never knew a mere look could inflict so much pain, but she could read Rachel's eyes too well. Rachel wasn't his to protect and care, and he had done much more than Quinn ever did. And Rachel wouldn't let Quinn forget it.

"Thank you, sir," Rachel said again, out of habit. She blinked a few times, before moving her eyes back to George, and Quinn felt like she could finally breathe again. "It means a lot. You're a wonderful person."

"Quinn feels the same," he continued. Both Rachel and Quinn widened their eyes. Quinn felt her breath getting caught again, but didn't deny it. "She has a hard time with her words, but I know deep in my heart she didn't want this either. I simply can't believe she could." He handed Quinn a small cup with ointment for the wounds, not knowing she already had it. "But she will come along, Rachel. Give her time, and she will come to her senses." Quinn hated that he talked about her as if she wasn't there - but again, she didn't deny it. "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

Rachel nodded. Quinn didn't know to which part.

* * *

As soon as George left, Rachel motioned to get up from the bed, but was stopped by Quinn's hand on her arm again. Rachel turned around and Quinn instantly pulled her hand back. Something in Rachel's eyes made her hand feel out of place. As if she didn't have permission to touch Rachel after what happened. Quinn had done it before, asking for Rachel to stay. But that night in particular the same action felt way more serious, giving that Quinn didn't have the rush of endorphins from sex pushing her forward.

"Do you want me to apply it?" Quinn asked, holding out the small cup with ointment. Rachel looked down, and something in Quinn's stomach twisted. Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps the defying, fierce Rachel was gone after what she went through. He had fixed Rachel. And all Quinn could do was silently pray that the Rachel she had grown so fond of would come back.

"You don't have to," Rachel murmured back.

Quinn shook her head slowly. She didn't have to. But she felt like she should. As if she owed Rachel that much, after having Rachel do the same for her and especially after not stopping the punishment from happening to Rachel. Before Rachel could get up again, Quinn rubbed one finger at the ointment and started gently spreading a thin layer over Rachel's wounds. Rachel cringed, and Quinn felt the pain in her own back. Rachel flinched, and Quinn wished she could take her pain away. Rachel sighed, and Quinn couldn't do anything but sigh back.

Quinn pulled the covers without saying a word. It was the simplest act, and she realized in surprise she had never done so in her 15 years of life. She had always had a slave making her bed for her. To do so for Rachel felt like the grandest act of surrender. Rachel seemed even more surprised than her and let out a small sad chuckle that Quinn would spend days trying to understand.

"It's okay, miss Quinn," said Rachel, shaking her head. "I'm okay. I can sleep in my own bed."

"No," Quinn ordered firmly. Rachel's eyebrows shot up, and Quinn pulled the covers further to help her slip under. Rachel didn't dare to disobey.

Quinn didn't have endorphins pushing her towards Rachel, but something else did. Something worked like a magnet, and made her lay near Rachel and turn to her side. Something made her eyes catch the image of a vulnerable side of Rachel she had never seen, and something made her never want to blink again. Her brother's words replayed incessantly in her head. He was right. Rachel was there, and Rachel was human, and Rachel was hers. And Quinn was sorry. And it was overwhelming to think about all of it and not be able to say one single word out loud. Her heart felt tight with all the fear of letting Rachel see _her_ vulnerable side.

Quinn leaned forward and kissed Rachel. It was much more dangerous than simply apologizing, but didn't feel as scary. Instead, it felt comforting. And Quinn had no idea what it meant.

A second before their lips met, Rachel shrieked in frighten and Quinn felt her chest heavy. Still, she kissed her, and with every flutter of her tongue she tried to make Rachel see how sorry she was. With every pull of her lip she apologized for not being able to discern and express what she felt. She was gentle and sweet and kissed Rachel in a way she had never kissed before, pouring care with every movement of her lips.

There was no way of Quinn knowing if Rachel understood or felt what she was trying to do, but Rachel kissed her back softly and let out a tiny moan that made Quinn want to melt into the bed and stay there for all eternity.

And that's when Quinn knew what she had to do to make Rachel feel better.

Rachel had touched her twice by then, but she had never touched Rachel back. She had never let Rachel know how grandiose the feeling was.

Without breaking apart from the kiss, Quinn let her hand slip down Rachel's body. She thought of grabbing Rachel's breast in the way, because she liked how it felt when Rachel had done so, but she was afraid of losing the little courage she had if she didn't go all the way all at once. Before she could stop to think about it, or before Rachel could move away, her hand was between Rachel's leg. And it felt cathartic.

She didn't know what she expected exactly, but it was softer than she thought it would be and as her fingers slipped along the folds she felt Rachel squirming on bed. Quinn didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She had never done that before. She didn't know if she was doing it right. She brushed her fingers against the coarse hair, and Rachel bit her lip just slightly. Still, she wasn't sure if that's how it was supposed to go. But she kept going, and she felt her fingers getting wetter and Rachel's kiss getting deeper and she figured she probably wasn't all wrong.

Quinn felt more daring once Rachel started moaning inside her mouth without a shame. Her fingers moved faster and her other hand travelled along Rachel's body, caressing every curve, feeling every scar. Rachel's body felt like a book waiting to be read, with a story to tell in every inch of skin, from the missing tip of a thumb to the pink QF embroidered on her skin. Quinn felt the initials of her name with her fingertips, and it was just one more reminder that Rachel was hers.

Rachel was hers, Rachel was there and Rachel crumbled against her fingers with one louder moan that Quinn tried to swallow. Quinn knew fairly well what that meant, and her assumptions were sustained as Rachel buried herself down the mattress. Rachel panted and whimpered and let go of Quinn's lips. If Rachel had opened her eyes in that second, she would have seen the shy smile that was set in Quinn's face when she realized she had made it.

She still wasn't sure if Rachel had understood what she was trying to do, but Rachel fell asleep with her legs tangled with Quinn's and her arm around Quinn's waist - and Quinn hoped that it was enough for Rachel to realize that she was sorry. Rachel slept soundly, but Quinn didn't fall asleep at all, taking care to make sure Rachel wouldn't lay on her back with her wounds against the mattress.

And Quinn liked to think she was responsible for saving Rachel from the pain, even if only a little.


	16. Chapter 16

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

Rachel was already wearing the gown the slaves and servants used to work on special nights. The gown was nothing when compared to the splendid gowns Quinn had tried before deciding which one to wear to her birthday night. It was a made in a way that it wouldn't bring any attention to itself, and just blended in in the room. Still, Quinn felt her heart doing a cartwheel inside her chest when she saw Rachel walking in. Rachel was just finishing to fix Quinn's hair do, and the uneasiness inside Quinn grew more with every stroke against her scalp. She hated social obligations, and although she couldn't deny she was looking forward to all the gifts she would get, she couldn't help feeling nervous knowing she would be the center of attention for such a long time.

Once Rachel was done, she carefully placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder and their eyes met through the mirror. Quinn felt her stomach fluttering as she sighed, and flashed Rachel a small nervous smile. For her surprise, Rachel smiled back, and this time Quinn's _whole body_ fluttered. But it was probably just because of how nervous she was. It was gonna be a big party.

"Does it look okay, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, her other hand fixing up a loose strand of hair onto the up do. Rachel improved her skills everyday, but she had really outdone herself that time. Quinn didn't have the biggest self confidence, but even she could admit she looked beautiful that night.

"It looks great," Quinn replied with a small nod. "Thank you," she whispered. Rachel smiled proudly and squeezed Quinn's shoulder just slightly.

She was ready. It was time. But somehow she didn't have the courage to leave Rachel's eyes and get up. How easy it would be to just ignore everyone that waited for her downstairs, and just lock herself inside the room alone with Rachel and those eyes that never shined brighter. But then, she heard a knock on the door, and jumped in startle.

"Quinn? Can I come in?" She heard George's voice coming from out the door, breathing out in relief. Nothing was happening, but she still felt guilty for the thoughts inside her head.

"Yes," she replied, patting her dress down and exchanging a quick glance with Rachel, who with a simple nod reassured her more than what all the inner workings of her mind had done for the past two hours.

"Good Lord," George exclaimed with a gasp once he saw Quinn. Rachel took a step back with a grin, and Quinn had to shake her head to remind herself she shouldn't be staring at Rachel so much. Not that night, at least. She had to focus. "My sister, you look stunning!"

"Thank you," she whispered back with a small roll of her eyes. She didn't know how to reply to compliments. She hadn't grown up with a lot of them.

"Rachel, do you mind leaving us alone for a second? It won't take too long," said George. Quinn would never get used to how casually he spoke to slaves, but at least it didn't bother her anymore. In fact, she felt good watching their interactions. It made her feel less guilty for all that happened between them. Rachel nodded and moved to leave. Quinn knew Rachel wouldn't ever deny George's wishes.

"Have you eaten?" Quinn asked, stopping Rachel from leaving. "You can go eat if you haven't, while I finish getting ready. I'm not sure you'll have time to eat during the ball."

"Yes, I have, miss Quinn," Rachel replied with a small nod, before silently leaving the room.

"That was unexpected," said George with a chuckle, sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace and tapping on the other one for Quinn to sit down in front of him. She didn't wanna wrinkle her gown by sitting down, but he looked at her in a way that she couldn't say no.

"What was it?" Quinn asked with her eyebrows knit together.

"You asking her that," he answered with a sincere smile. "You have been treating her better. _Kinder_. That's very good, Quinn."

"Well, she's hurt and wounded," Quinn replied with a shrug, trying to dismiss it. She wasn't sure if she should let George know about the recent epiphanies of her life that lead her to see how important Rachel was for her. Still, she knew he didn't buy her excuse. But he let go of the subject, and that was all she could ask for in that moment.

"I'm proud of you, Quinn," said George. "I don't think I ever said that, and I think you need to hear it because we know more than anyone this household isn't exactly known for praising. You have made your mistakes in life, but then who hasn't, right? Deep down I know you are a wonderful girl who's growing up to be an even more wonderful woman. And I'm glad I'm here to watch it."

"Thank you, George," she replied, batting her eyelashes to stop an annoying tear from slip out of her eyes. "I'm glad you're here too. This house feels less empty with you in it."

"Alright, I think that's it then," George got up and caught Quinn's hand to help her up. She silently thanked him for not taking that any further, because she knew she couldn't stop her tears much longer and ruining all the work Rachel had done in her face was simply out of the question. "Are you ready for the biggest night of your life?"

"Yes," she replied with a giggle.

But in reality, she wasn't. Her hands were sweaty and her stomach was turning around itself in strange knots. She wasn't ready at all. Not until they walked out of the room and she found Rachel waiting for them by the door. She _was_ nervous - but Rachel was there. She doubted it would be the biggest night of her life, but Rachel would be there for her if she needed her. And she would make the most out of her birthday ball.

* * *

"Well, finally!" Judy exclaimed as Quinn entered the drawing room, followed by her brother and slave. Judy didn't pay her any compliments - _not that Quinn even waited for them._ The room was filled with bouquets of all sizes and types, sent by the guests to Quinn. Her mother handed her one of red roses and baby's-breath. Roses didn't bring her any good memories - and besides, it didn't go well with her gown. "Here, you should walk in with this one. It's from Mr. Hurley. He owns the biggest plantation farm in Nevis and I've heard he's taken interest on what he's heard of you. Make sure you give him plenty of attention tonight, he's your best choice, Quinn!"

"I don't think that's a good idea, mother," Quinn frowned with a nervous chuckle. She knew that ball had a purpose, but hearing her mother so avidly throwing her to the arms of a man neither of them knew made her even more uneasy than before. "I want to have a chance to meet all of the bachelors, and I'm afraid they could get the wrong idea if I was holding Mr. Hurley's bouquet. I think it's more appropriated for me to hold father's bouquet," she said, grabbing the one her father had personally given to her a few hours before. George tried to hide a giggle, but just one of their mother's glare was enough to get him quiet.

If they didn't make their entrance soon, one of them would surely give up and turn back to their room. Quinn was afraid it would be her, so she rushed the rest of them and in just a few minutes they were at the top of the stairs. Their guests couldn't see the family, but Quinn could see all of the guests and panicked further. There was just way too many people. Her hand shook so badly that she could see leaves falling from the bouquet - and she had no idea how she would control herself. It felt way too foolish to have a single night determining the destiny of her whole life, and she was terrified of ruining it.

George placed a hand on Quinn's arm and she turned her head towards him. With a gentle smile and a small nudge, he pointed with his head towards the very corner of the ball room - the one spot from where someone could see who was at the top of the stairs. There, she found Rachel looking straight at her and perhaps even more apprehensive than she was. But the second their eyes met, Rachel let go of the lip she was chewing on and smiled. And it was all Quinn needed to gather her courage and walk down.

"Let's go," said Quinn with a shaky breath, taking the first step down the stairs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Fabrays!"

Their name was applauded and the noise was just too much. Quinn had walked down those stairs her whole life, and had never tripped on any steps - but that night she was just sure she would stumble and fall down. Quinn held tightly onto the gaze she shared with Rachel. If it were only Rachel in that room, Quinn wouldn't be nervous. She just had to pretend no one else was there - which got increasingly more difficult as they reached the bottom of the stairs, when it was finally the time for her presentation to the high society. Still, she could feel Rachel's eyes on her, and it somehow calmed her down.

"Mr. Chattington, my daughter, Quinn Fabray," said Judy shaking hands with an all-too-old man who proceeded to grab her hand and drop a kiss on her knuckles. The kiss was wet and his lips were rough. The mere thought of having those lips on hers made her face twitch in disgust. Quinn almost wiped down her hand by reflex, but contained herself and pretended to have manners.

"It's a delightful pleasure to meet you, miss Quinn," he said.

Quinn simply nod, and they moved on to the next one. There were too many men and women to be introduced to Quinn, which didn't leave time for small-talk, for much of Quinn's relief. By her side, her mother beamed, and Quinn wondered how much of it was true and how much of it was just out of politeness to their guests. Either way, it was the closest she ever saw of her mother being proud of her - as if she could finally be somehow useful to the family. Quinn realized she would rather have her mother not being proud at all.

"Brittany," said Judy with a small bow, before the girl passed on to greet her friend.

"Oh, you look too graceful, Quinn, dear! And your dress is enchanting!" She said, giving Quinn a tight hug. Quinn damned her for putting her gown and hair at risk with such a clumsy move, but it was Brittany. It was just how she was, and Quinn was used to it. She had never been Quinn's favorite, but it felt nice to have at least one person she knew in the room so full of strangers.

After what felt like hours, Quinn had been presented to the last one of their guests. She had been introduced to so many new faces in such a short time, that she couldn't even remember what the so famous Mr. Hurley looked like. Or perhaps the reason she couldn't remember most of the faces had to do with the fact that through all of the presentations Quinn had been more focused on watching Rachel and making sure she wasn't being bothered by any of their guests than paying attention to the actual guests.

She tried not to think about how ironic that was. Especially since Rachel also seemed all too distracted. Not by the amount of guests or amount of noise, but by the many interactions Quinn was sharing with strangers. Quinn saw Rachel's eyebrows furrowing every time a man grabbed her hand, and it made her want to giggle. Quinn found comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one nervous and uncomfortable that night, although for completely different reasons.

* * *

Rachel couldn't take her eyes out of Quinn. Granted, in fact she shouldn't, because it was her job to always be on the watch in case Quinn needed her help. But it was different that night. Rachel had been the one to help her get dressed and fixed her hair. She had seen the transformation happening and was responsible for it. So why did she feel so mesmerized by the different Quinn she saw in front of her?

Quinn had been different for a while then. Ever since Rachel had been whipped, Quinn had changed the way she treated her, and it didn't go unnoticed. Rachel thought it was guilt taking over, and tried not to get used to it because she knew fairly well that Quinn could change right back once it was all over. Her wounds hurt like hell, but she couldn't say she wouldn't miss sleeping in the so comfortable bed once she was healed. Being honest, she would miss sleeping by Quinn side regardless of where it was.

She had never had that kind of proximity with someone before, and even being someone as despiteful as Quinn, it was nice being close to another human being. It was nice to feel Quinn's breath against her neck, and to feel the warmth from Quinn's body. It was even nicer when Quinn would think she was asleep and would drop random kisses onto her mouth. Rachel's stomach flipped as the memory crashed with the force of Quinn's eyes on her again. Her eyes wouldn't leave Rachel that night, and Rachel was thankful for that.

Rachel knew Quinn was nervous - she had been restless about the party for a long time. Rachel also knew what the party meant. Entering your 16th year was always a decisive moment of a woman's life. In Quinn's case, it was the time she could be done with her studies if she didn't wish to continue them, and it was the time she was considered old and mature enough to find a husband.

For a slave, it was different - but still a decisive moment. Rachel felt like the second she turned 16, men started noticing her more. Her body hadn't changed, but it was suddenly being more glanced at. She thought perhaps they could sense a change on her after what Quinn and she had done, but dismissed her own thoughts before she drove herself crazy. But the problem was she couldn't dismiss the men around her as easily as her thoughts. She never could.

It came with being a slave. Her life didn't belong to her, and neither did her body. Many had touched her without her consent before, and she soon enough learned to not even protest against them. It never brought her any good. But at the same time she couldn't control what happened to her, she also couldn't control how she felt. And it was terrifying to realize that it had never felt good - until Quinn. Rachel wasn't even keen on kissing when suddenly Quinn became an expert on making her wanting to carve out of her own body with a simple touch of their lips.

Her lips. They were more pink than usual that night, to contrast with her gown. They looked fuller, even though Quinn kept burying her teeth onto them every now and them. As she watched man after man dropping kisses on Quinn's hand, she felt her body heating up in a feeling she couldn't quite describe. Right then, she only wished she could cross the ball room and claim those lips. She wanted to take those lips between hers and kiss Quinn until she was mellow in her arms and had not a worry in her head. Or maybe _she_ could be the one burying _her_ teeth onto Quinn's lips, and make sure that Quinn's only worry was to stay quiet and not to be heard.

But all her thoughts and imagination were put aside when she realized she had been so lost that she didn't even realize the family had finished the presentation and moved away from the bottom of the stairs. Knitting her eyebrows together, Rachel tried to find Quinn through the room, but was unsuccessful. She moved across the so many guests, being careful not to touch them - but she still couldn't find Quinn.

Perhaps Quinn had been so nervous she decided to take a break. It was a plausible guess. Rachel went to the backyard, with every intention of going to the kitchen house and ask the other slaves if they had seen Quinn. But on her way, she felt strong arms grabbing and stopping her.

"How is your back?" Russell asked, through puffs of his cigars. The very same one his mother used to smoke. The very same smell Rachel learned to hate through childhood. The smoke was thick, and Rachel had to suppress her urge to cough.

"It's fine, master," Rachel replied, with her head down. His arms didn't let go of her, and she swallowed dryly.

"Leave your door opened tonight," he whispered, looking around to make sure they were alone in the backyard. She felt his hot breath and the smoke brushing against her cheek, and it made her want to throw up. "I'll pass by to check on your wounds."

Rachel didn't even dare to say no.

Entering your 16th year was always a decisive moment of a woman's life. She hoped she had a better fate than the one so many of her friends had before.

* * *

"Dear, Quinn, your dress is simply divine!" Said one of the girls Quinn had just been introduced to, and already had no idea what was her name. Quinn didn't care enough to remember. All the girls surrounding her were just more of the same. The same looks, the same talks, the same goals. It unnerved Quinn. Her whole life she was taught how to act and talk politely to other women, but that night she realized why her mother made sure she received extra lessons on that. She was just too different from the other girls.

"Who did your hair?" Another one asked.

"My slave," Quinn answered nonchalantly, suddenly realizing it had been a while since she had last seen Rachel. She quickly scanned the room and didn't find Rachel anywhere, so she frowned - and frowned deeper when she heard the girls were still talking.

"Oh, I've heard you had a lot of problems with that one! She really does seem very unrefined," said one of the girls, getting nods from the others. "Maybe it's because she grew up in the city. People there simply don't know how to treat their slaves."

"Well, she's very perfectionist in making Quinn's hair though. We can't deny that," said Brittany with a shrug.

Quinn felt her blood running thicker. She didn't like at all that suddenly Rachel had become the subject of a party that should be focusing on her. Besides, she was the only one that could talk badly about Rachel and her manners. No one else had the right to do so. But at the same time, Brittany didn't have the right to defend Rachel either. So before she got even angrier and ruined her own party, she left the girls talking by themselves and attached herself to the arms of the first boy she saw.

And like that she stayed for most of the night. From the arms to one gentleman to the other, twirling, waltzing and prancing. She was the light of the party, and everyone had eyes on her, just like it should be. She closed her eyes and let the music lead her, finally putting the so many dancing lessons she had taken to use. Still, it didn't feel right. No one seemed to match her rhythm, and she got way too many man stepping on her foot.

"She is never gonna find a husband dancing with everyone like this!" She could hear her mother angry whisper to her father.

"She is merely dancing, Judy! Look how merry she looks! Leave her be!" Russell replied back with a coarse laugh. Quinn smiled quietly against a tall gentleman's shoulder. Too tall.

"No one is gonna want her, Russell!" Judy whispered again.

"That's fine, then she will be my little girl forever!" Said Russell, too intoxicated with wine to be able to keep his voice down. Quinn was glad he didn't. Hearing his words took some of the weight off of her shoulders and let her finally enjoy her own ball without having to worry so much about the consequences it would bring. It didn't matter if any of the men could dance, or if they were too tall, or even too old. If she didn't pick anyone, she would be fine. Her father was on her side.

When Quinn finally found Rachel again, she had sipped enough champagne to admit to herself that she wished she could simply let go of Mr. Hurley's arms and run to Rachel's, where they would dance until the end of the night. Rachel should be a good dancer. She had watched Quinn's lessons enough. She wouldn't step on Quinn's feet, and even if she did, she was so small that it wouldn't even hurt. She wasn't old, or tall. She was just perfect. Or maybe Quinn had drunk too much champagne. Still, it hadn't been enough for Quinn to actually have the courage to make her wishes happen. She closed her eyes, trying to wipe the thoughts away. But the second her eyes closed, Rachel was all she could see. She pictured Rachel in her arms, swirling across the room, and it finally felt right.

And it made her shiver.

* * *

When the last guest left and the party was finally over, Rachel was drained of all her energy. She had never helped in such a large event, and it was especially difficult as Quinn got dizzier and just a little bit too cheerful and touchy - until her mother gently reminded her that she had drunk enough and that it wasn't polite for such a young woman to be intoxicated. Not that Quinn listened to her at all.

Rachel waited by Quinn's door as she finished putting on her night gown, but when Quinn came out she carried a tray in her hand that Rachel had no idea where it could have come from. Quinn walked to the bed and pulled the covers from the other side - her non-verbal signal to invite Rachel to lay with her. Rachel abode and sat by her side, but still couldn't figure what she carried in that covered tray, and curiosity killed her.

"Happy birthday," Quinn whispered. Rachel thought she hadn't heard right, or that perhaps Quinn was talking to herself. But Quinn pushed the tray towards her and pulled the lid away, revealing a plate with the largest piece of cake Rachel had ever seen. Rachel gasped, but didn't move. It felt too good to be real. It felt like a trap. It was just cruel. But Quinn caught Rachel's eyes, and Rachel found the truth. Quinn wasn't mocking her or joking. She grabbed Rachel's hand, and Rachel felt Quinn's apologies dripping through her finger. The intimacy and innocence of the act took Rachel's breath away. It was nothing like anything they had ever shared. And she never wanted to let go. "It's for you. You can eat it," said Quinn, as if Rachel hadn't understood.

"How did you know?" Rachel whispered back. Quinn grabbed a fork and took one bite of the cake, motioning for Rachel to do the same. She did after some hesitation, and instantly regretted it. After eating a cake like that, not even the best foods she got in her rations would feel tasty enough. The whipped cream melted inside her mouth, and she almost missed when Quinn whispered an answer to her question.

"You know how I know…" said Quinn. And Rachel did. She remembered precisely the day she had last eaten a piece of Quinn's birthday cake, and what were the consequences for that. It hurt deeply for Rachel to think that although Quinn hadn't been the one ordering it, she was still somehow responsible for the whipping that took her mother's life. She couldn't just forget all of their past, but she felt like the little Quinn from back then was a whole different person from the Quinn that stood in front of her at that moment. Quinn had too many versions of herself, and it was getting hard for Rachel to keep up. "I'm sorry," Quinn whispered even lower than before, and Rachel's eyes shot wide.

She liked to think she understood Quinn. Quinn was quiet and didn't express her feelings out loud. All her recent actions had a reason and a purpose. But to unravel something that had happened so long ago and still apologize for it… _She didn't know Quinn at all_. She would have understood if Quinn had just grabbed her hand - it was what she always did. Apologize quietly. But not this time. Rachel felt her heart taking a flip inside her chest, and beating faster than she thought it could. She didn't know Quinn - and it was all she wanted. Well, _that_ and something else.

"Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Quinn lifted her head in Rachel's direction, but Rachel waited for clear instructions that she was allowed to go on.

"Yes?" Said Quinn, perhaps still a little dizzy from all the champagne. Perhaps that's why Rachel felt so brave.

"If I…" Rachel took a deep breath. "If I wanted to kiss you right now, would you let me?"

Quinn nodded.

And so she did.


	17. Chapter 17

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"George, can you please put down those papers?" Quinn sighed, trying to pull it from his hands, but his grip was tighter. "I need to talk to you about something important!"

"I'm sorry, Quinn, I really need to get this done," he said, bringing the papers close to his chest and adjusting his reading glasses. "Can you please wait until after supper?"

"No," said Quinn, grabbing both his hand and his attention. "It's urgent and I really need you to help me. Please George. You're the only one I have in this house."

"Alright," George answered with a nod, putting the papers under a weight and clasping his hands on top of the table between them. He had finally realized she meant it. It was important. "What is it, sister?"

Quinn had rehearsed her words a billion times inside her head, and knew that if she didn't let them out soon she would lose the little courage she had. Still, she found herself swallowing hard and starting to shake as her brother's eyes studied her expressions.

"It's about Rachel," Quinn blurted out. It was all she could say. She did the best she could.

"What about her?" George asked, propping the weight of his chin on his hands and quirking one eyebrow up.

"I- Uh-," Quinn stuttered and shook her head with her eyes shut tight. "God, I have no idea how to say this!" she whined with a groan. He chuckled.

"Quinn," said George, getting Quinn to open her eyes as he grabbed her hand. "You don't have to say anything. I know what's happening." His voice was as reassuring as it could be, but Quinn's heart raced faster than it ever had.

"You- You do?" She asked between trembling lips. He couldn't. But she looked in his eyes, and she knew he knew it. "How?" Quinn silently remembered all the times she and Rachel had been together and was mortified with the mere thought of having her brother heard everything.

"I just know," he shrugged. As if it weren't a big deal at all.

"Well, why didn't you talk to me sooner then?" Quinn scoffed nervously. "I was going crazy all this time, I could have used your help!"

"You weren't ready to talk about this before, and you know that," he argued. Quinn couldn't argue back. He wasn't wrong. "You don't need to go crazy about this, Quinn."

"George, are you aware I'm going to _hell_?" Quinn huffed with a hurtful laugh. It felt worse to say those things out loud. As if they became somehow more real - although nothing felt as real as having Rachel in her arms.

"We don't know that for sure, do we?" He asked, and Quinn frowned. "We can't really know what God thinks of our acts. In my opinion, God must be much more worried about the amount of killing and hurting our people have been trusting onto slaves than with _that_."

"Well, the priest said-" Quinn tried to reason, but George cut her short.

"They could be wrong. No one knows what God thinks, Quinn," he said with the softest smile. Quinn tried to nod to herself and let that sink in as a fact, but she couldn't. She had too many sources telling her otherwise, and George sensed her restlessness. "Look, I know you must be worried because that's… _different_. But when I lived in London, I had a friend like that, and she turned out just fine."

"Really?" Quinn asked in a shy murmur, truthfully hoping he would be able to convince her.

"Yes," he nodded. "She lived with her partner, and they were pretty happy, from what I gathered. To everyone else in the village, they were sisters. But if anyone took a second to see at the way they looked at each other, they would have known."

"But George, London is a much bigger city and people there are more liberal and educated and maybe it is okay there, but here? In Saint Kitts?" She bit her lip hard. It still hurt less than to think further of what could happen to them.

"Everyone in here deals with aunt Angeline just fine," he shrugged and Quinn's eyes shot open wide.

"You know that too?" She was starting to wonder if she was the only one who couldn't notice it. Maybe she could be surrounded by people like her, and she was just the only one who couldn't see it. Maybe she was born broken. She sure felt like something wasn't right.

"Everyone knows, Quinn. Everyone _ignores_ it, but everyone knows."

"I think she went after Rachel," Quinn confessed, leaning closer to him. There was no one else in the room, and the door was locked - but she couldn't be careful enough. "She sent some terrifying letters to her. I was lucky to catch it before someone else at his house did." George's face was drained of color and Quinn felt him tensing up. Her heart fell at the prospect of what else he could know. "What? What is it, George?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and gulping. "It doesn't matter. What does matter here is, how do you think Rachel feels? About you, I mean."

"I-" Quinn was caught in her own words. She had never thought about it. The whole time she spent stressing about what the consequences of how she felt would be, but never once had stopped to think about what was going on in Rachel's head. If she thought of the times they were together, she could answer without a doubt that Rachel felt something for her too. But then Quinn remembered how every time it had started out with an order from her, and all her certainties flew by the window. "I have no idea."

"Well, would you like to know what _I_ think?" He asked. Quinn nodded promptly. "I think she feels the same." Quinn felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. "You two have fire between yourselves. The sparks between you are undeniable, since the very first time you met."

"So what do I do, then? How do I fix this?"

"There's nothing to be fixed, Quinn," he chuckled. She had no idea how he could laugh about it. "Your first love will forever be your greatest. Nothing in your life will ever be as intense or as magical as it. There's nothing you should do but ride it. Let it consume you and dive in on all the emotions it will bring you. This is the best time of your life. Just enjoy it."

But it was hard for Quinn to do so, when he spilled those four letters word that she had been trying to ignore for longer than she could remember.

* * *

Quinn entered the room with a smile on her face that could only be hung after being listened and reassured in a way she had never been in her life. As George had said, what she carried in her eyes could be seen by anyone who dared to pay a second of attention to her - which explained her mother and father's oblivion to everything. They never really looked at her.

Rachel seemed surprised by the smile too, and frowned nervously as Quinn walked closer. That was gonna be gone one day. She would stop being so nervous. Quinn would earn Rachel's thrust - and possibly _something else_ on her way.

"Hey," Quinn greeted, leaning against the door frame of her closet as Rachel hang her clean gowns. "Would you like to go riding with me?"

"Riding?" Rachel asked, with her eyebrows knit together. "It's been forever!"

"I didn't trust you back then," Quinn confessed with a small shrug, and Rachel's frown fell. She closed her lips in a thin line, and Quinn took a step closer. "I do, now. Come with me."

Quinn didn't have to ask again. A small part of her would always wonder if everything Rachel did was because she thought she was being ordered - but when she saw the smile on Rachel's face as she caressed the horse's muzzle, she rest assured. Rachel was having fun.

She would always impress Quinn. From the first time she saw Rachel riding a horse, she felt her lower stomach quivering. Despite her years of training, Rachel could easily beat her whenever she attempted to start a race - and all of that while in the back of the weakest horse of their farm. She couldn't imagine what Rachel would be able to do in a proper horse.

"Maybe we could try to make arrangements to buy you your own horse," Quinn said nonchalantly as they strolled by a small creek. "A better one," she said.

The way Rachel's eyes lit up made Quinn melt. Quinn was surprised with herself. The way she had quickly changed from merciless to eager to please. But she was more surprised with Rachel, and the way she had changed from defiant to ready to _even more_ eager to please - although in a completely different way.

They didn't have dinner that night. George had always been right. A simple brush of their fingers generated sparks enough to start a fire - and to get them locked inside Quinn's room for hours.

And Quinn was Rachel's for the whole night.

* * *

Quinn had to admit, she wasn't as excited as she had once been about her father's teachings on plantation. Seeing Rachel being whipped had touched her, and she had been uncomfortable about watching the the other slaves working since then. Still, it was her destiny. She would have to take over the farm one day, and she would need to learn how to do so sooner or later. She couldn't disappoint her father.

"They start out by cleaning the ground and loosening the soil where the cane cuttings will be planted. That's usually done by the great gang, cause it's not easy and the slaves must be strong," her father explained and she nodded again, for the billionth time. "I know it sounds useless to hear that, because you won't be the one doing the work. But if you don't know what they're supposed to do, you can't correct if they're doing it wrong."

"I know, father," she smiled, wrapping her arm with his as they walked their way to the mill house. "I don't think it's useless. I'm flattered that I get to learn with the best."

"I'm the proudest for having such a marvelous daughter," he chuckled, opening the door for her to walk in first. "The crushing mill is powered by the wind," he returned to his explanations. "But this year we're having a shortage on the wind in this island, for some reason. We're supplementing that with the animal mill, and some slaves are helping too, although I'm not entirely happy about that."

"Why not?" Quinn asked in a frown.

"It can be dangerous. It's too easy for them to get caught and drawn in," he explained in a lower voice, as if he didn't want the slaves to know the risk they were under. Quinn looked behind her shoulders to see a young man feeding the mill, and gulped. He could be gone in a second with the simplest mistake. "The juice that comes out goes to the boiling house, and that part has to happen fast otherwise the final product will be compromised. The juice gets thicker as it goes to smaller cauldrons and by the end is mostly crystallized."

"That's my favorite part," Quinn murmured. "It smells amazing. This whole process is amazing. How a weird tall plant can become such a sweet thing."

"It really is, if you stop to think about it," Russell smiled, wrapping an arm around Quinn's shoulder. "The story of sugar isn't always sweet. There's always blood in the process and sometimes we lose more than we want to. But the end," he said, lifting his finger dripped in the thick juice onto his mouth. "The end makes it all worth it. Sugar has changed all world."

* * *

_Basseterre, 1779_

* * *

Quinn had surprised her again. That morning, after her lessons, Quinn called her in the library. Her heart flipped, as it always did when Quinn said her name. The prospect of a scolding startled her. The possibility of anything else scared her even more. But still, she could never get tired of being surprised - especially when it came to good kind. Like being told she was coming with Quinn to church in Basseterre.

It had been way too long. Rachel missed going to church. It had always been one of her favorite moments of the week, not only for the sense of freedom she got walking there alone, but for the hope she carried in her heart when she left. The hope that things would get better eventually. And hadn't they? Of course, they were still far from ideal. She was still a slave after all - but she and Quinn had come a long way since the day she first stepped in that farm. That's the first thing she thanked God for, as she kneeled down at the back of the church.

"Dear," said an old lady, grabbing Rachel's hand. "You shouldn't be in here. These are the benches for slaves. Come here, I'll find you a seat on the front rows."

"I'm a slave," Rachel murmured back. It wasn't the first time someone misjudged her for a white person. She had the skin for it. It was also not the first time someone pulled away with a disgusted face after she told them the truth. She was used to it. What she wasn't used to was Quinn's angry frown whenever she saw someone getting too close to Rachel. And she definitely wasn't used to the shivering that ran down her body every time she saw that face.

They were almost at the final blessing. If it were only a few minutes later, it would have been too late. Rachel wouldn't have felt someone pulling her by the arm. She couldn't help the squeal she let out when she realized it was her father, and soon enough he had her wrapped inside his arms.

"Father!" she exclaimed, hugging him with all the strength she had in her frail arms and trying to contain the tears that immediately came to her eyes. "Oh, how I've missed you," she whispered in a quivering voice.

"I have missed you too, my darling," said Eugene. "I couldn't believe when I heard you were in town! I'm so happy to see you here! How have you been, dear?"

"I'm fine," she answered with a smile and a nod as they pulled apart. It was true. She was much better than she thought she would be the last time she had hugged her father. She and Quinn had had a bumpy start, but the fact alone that she had been brought to the city showed her how things had changed. "Things aren't so bad as I thought they would be. I'm truly fine."

"Oh, you have no idea the relief I feel hearing that!" He grasped her hands between his, and she remembered how small she always felt near him. As if she was still the tiny little girl he took horse riding every Sunday. "I've heard you were having a hard time at the farm, but I'm glad those were just rumors. I knew you would gain their hearts up there. You always did so," he said. Rachel smiled. He didn't have to know the whole truth. "You know, Sary has missed you, too." He manned his head towards the horse by the church's stairs.

From above his shoulder, Rachel watched Quinn marching the hallway out of the church and coming to their direction. Her smile fell in a blink. Quinn had indeed been behaving differently the past days, but Rachel was still walking on eggshells about how she would react to certain things. When it came to Quinn, she could never be sure of anything.

"What's going on here?" Quinn asked with a frown and her hands on her hips.

"Oh, it's nothing miss Quinn. I'm just happy to see my father again," Rachel smiled, trying to get Quinn to do the same. She didn't. In fact, she seemed to tense up even more as Rachel's father wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Mass is over, we should get going," said Quinn, yanking her head asking for Rachel to come by her side. She was being defensive, and Rachel understood it. She wished she could tell Quinn there was no reason for it.

Even if her father could pay for her freedom, she couldn't accept it. She couldn't let him waste everything he had saved through his whole lifetime all on her. She wouldn't want to be a weight in his life, and she wouldn't have anywhere to go. She wouldn't have anything to do either - she didn't know how to do anything else. She had just always been a slave. And if she couldn't support herself, she wouldn't let him be the one to do it.

"I suppose I'll see you again?" Eugene asked, giving her another hug as a goodbye.

Rachel didn't know the answer to that. Quinn was always composed in front of strangers, but Rachel had no idea what was in her head right then. For all Rachel knew, she could still get punished for that encounter afterwards. But her father waited for an answer, so she turned to face Quinn and with her biggest eyes she silently prayed for a positive answer. They were in front of a church, after all.

"Yeah," Quinn answered with a sigh and a shrug. "Probably. Maybe."

Those simple three words made Rachel shatter. She wanted to throw herself on Quinn's arms and thank her with all her heart. She was more infatuated by Quinn with every tiny act. And she was less scared of it with each day.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, peaking her head inside the library where Quinn worked on a canvas.

"Come on in," Quinn answered, without looking back. She could never mistake Rachel's voice.

"I've brought you a clean apron so that you won't get your gown dirty with the paints," said Rachel, handing her the folded apron.

"Will you tie it? My hands are dirty," Quinn said, getting up and turning around for Rachel to do as she was told. She had mastered every action Quinn required her to do, and kept coming back to show Quinn when she got it right. "Thank you, that's perfect," Quinn complimented, and Rachel's smile lit up. Quinn wasn't used to compliments - giving or receiving - but she quickly learned to drop them more frequently when she realized the effect they had on Rachel.

Quinn sat down again and grabbed a brush. She didn't have lessons that day, but she had woken up in a good mood and she always felt like her paintings were their best in days like those - especially since she didn't have to follow any instructions and could just do as she wished. She felt Rachel's eyes on her back as her hands worked. Rachel had always shown interest in her paintings, and Quinn found herself painting the hair of the woman in her canvas black instead of the usual blonde. Looking back over her shoulder, her eyes found Rachel's and they exchanged a quiet smile. Quinn would never be able to paint those eyes.

"Come here," said Quinn, quirking her head towards the canvas. She would never be able to paint Rachel, but maybe Rachel could. "Do you wanna try?" She asked, holding out a brush.

"Oh, no, miss, I don't know how to," Rachel answered with a shake of her head. Quinn tapped the spot by her side at the bench, and Rachel looked around before sitting down. "I have never done this."

"You're a fast learner, I know that. And something tells me you have a way for this," Quinn shrugged, placing the brush on Rachel's hand and showing her how to hold it properly. She felt a small shiver running down Rachel's body as their hands touched, and smiled again. "Just close your eyes, picture whatever you want and move your hands as you feel."

"Alright," Rachel murmured, doing as she was told. She didn't have to keep her eyes closed, but Quinn wouldn't be the one to tell her that. If her eyes were closed Quinn would be able to stare at her without any awkwardness between them. "Like this?" Rachel asked, and Quinn's eyes opened wider as she watched Rachel work.

"Yes," Quinn nodded with a grin that Rachel couldn't see. "Exactly like that! Those are pretty good strokes, especially for a first time!"

Rachel opened her eyes and locked them with Quinn's. Their smiles matched, and none of them bothered looking away and towards the painting. They would never be able to paint each other's eyes.

For a second, Quinn thought Rachel was going to kiss her. She wished Rachel would. She wondered if Rachel would have done it already if there weren't such powerful roles between them. She considered being the one to do so. But a loud and obnoxious noise filled the room just in time to interrupt her and make her whole stomach twist up in a knot.

"Well, look who's here! If it isn't my very favorite niece!" said Lady Angeline, walking into the room with swaying hips. Rachel stood up promptly, and Quinn watched as her eyes found Lady Angeline's. Her stomach twisted harder, and she was almost sure she would throw up. But she couldn't. She couldn't let her guard down. She had to let her aunt know she was in command - especially after she read the letters Lady Angeline had sent Rachel.

"Aunt Angeline," Quinn greeted, standing up and giving a small bow of her head before turning to Rachel. "You may leave now," she said.

"Oh, I don't mind if she stays!" Lady Angeline said, moving her hand up to stop Rachel in her way - but Quinn was faster, stopping between them. Her aunt wouldn't touch Rachel. Not in front of her.

"I have ordered her to leave," Quinn replied coldly, but looked back to Rachel and dismissed her again with a small hand gesture. She didn't want to be rude to Rachel, but she had to stand her ground.

If it worked or not Quinn would never know, but for the time being Rachel was far from her aunt and it was all she could ask for. Lady Angeline sat down at the chaise near Quinn's painting and she held her breath.

"I didn't know she could paint," Lady Angeline said, quirking up an eyebrow. Quinn untied her apron and hung it on the easel.

"I didn't know you were coming," Quinn replied, doing her best to move the subject away from Rachel.

"Oh, didn't you? It was planned ages ago. It must have slipped your father's mind." Quinn gave her a fake smile. It was almost as if she knew Quinn's father had been his busiest and barely had any time for her anymore. "So," Lady Angeline continued. "I've heard about your birthday ball."

"I'm sorry you couldn't come," Quinn replied with a mocking grin.

"I'm sorry it was such a failure," her aunt shot back. Quinn frowned.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, aunt Angeline. All of my guests left this house speaking of how much of a success it was," said Quinn. She could be overstating that information, but she wasn't lying. She hadn't heard any complaints - except for her mother's, but she was already used to those. It surprised her that her mother and her aunt didn't get along. They surely could bond over the fact they both hated Quinn.

"Well, if it had been a success you wouldn't be single by now, aren't I right?" Lady Angeline asked, and Quinn laughed - but her aunt didn't understand, and frowned.

"Oh, you have to admit it is at least ironic to hear that from _you_ , right aunt Angeline? I mean, at least I'm still young enough for a wedding." Quinn replied, but the smirk that appeared on Lady Angeline's face made her sure she should have stayed quiet.

"Well, I have my reasons to not be married. And let me tell you, they are _wonderful_!"

Quinn didn't have the time to excuse herself. If she wasn't out of the room right at that second she wouldn't have been able to keep her breakfast in. She could only hope her aunt wasn't talking like that about Rachel, because if she were, only God knew what Quinn would do to her.

Still, she knew her exit hadn't been the best.

Lady Angeline won.

* * *

"Why do you look like you just killed someone and need help with the body?" Quinn asked with a giggle. The horrible mood she got after the morning chat with her aunt had been washed away by one simple smile from Rachel. "Oh, let me guess! You just shared a lovely conversation with aunt Angeline too!"

"I haven't have the pleasure to see her yet," George replied, and Quinn was unsettled without knowing if he had been sarcastic or not. He was known for liking everyone, regardless of their bad traits, and it wouldn't surprise Quinn if he was fond of their aunt. "But what I've came to tell you is somehow related to her."

"Oh God, what did she do already? She only just arrived!" Quinn tensed up.

"Well, not _her_ exactly," he said fidgeting with his hands and sitting on the chair near Quinn. He didn't had the heart to look at her eyes, and it terrified her to think why. "Remember how you told me she had been going after Rachel?" He asked. Quinn nodded in agreement. "Let's say she isn't the only one doing so."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn deadpanned, swallowing thick. It was hard to deal with someone wanting what was hers - but knowing that Lady Angeline's visits were always limited to a few days reassured her. It didn't matter how much she wanted Rachel - there was a whole ocean between them for most of the year. Quinn didn't know how she would deal with having someone from the farm doing the same. "Who is it?"

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I really didn't know how to. Especially after you told me everything," George said with a deep sigh as he shook his head. "God, I wish I wasn't the one to have to tell you that."

"Just tell me," Quinn said firmly. Her wanting to know was bigger than the fear she felt.

"Father went after her," George whispered. Quinn knit her eyebrows together and chuckled. George shook his head faster and caught her hand, anchoring her eyes. "Quinn, I'm serious."

"That's absurd, George!" Quinn dismissed it. "Father would never do that. He wouldn't go for a slave. He loves our mother!" But the tense frown in his face didn't fall, and Quinn felt herself getting more nervous. "George, Rachel would have told me. That's nonsense."

"Quinn, it wouldn't have been the first time. He has gone after slaves before. You were just too young or too naive to realize that, but he is not the hero you always think of him as," he said. Quinn didn't want to believe. "And Rachel wouldn't tell you. She wouldn't go against him."

"Who told you this, George?" Quinn leaned forward. "That person has the worst sense of humor I've ever heard of. Tell me who it was!"

"No one told me," he said with a small shrug. "I've seen him whispering things to her more than once. I don't know if anything happened besides that, but I'm sure I've seen him talking to her in a rather suspiciously way."

Quinn was about to argue back. She would be able to refute every single one of George's statements if she had to. She would do whatever it took to keep the image she had of her father. But she was interrupted when she saw him walking through the door, untying the knot of his tie.

"Well, if it isn't my beautiful children!" He said.

He walked towards them and placed a wet kiss on Quinn's cheek.

And she knew it didn't matter how much she tried to deny. It was true.


	18. Chapter 18

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"Judy, will you please pass me the onion pie," said Lady Angeline. Judy huffed, offended to be even asked - but Abbigail served the Lady before they could say anything. "This tastes marvelous!" She exclaimed, licking her lips.

"Abbigail is a splendid cooker," George complimented, with a small wink. The slave smiled shyly and returned to her post after serving Lady Angeline.

"On another matter, I would like to make you all an offer!" said Lady Angeline. Quinn frowned and stopped her fork mid-air, waiting to see what would come out of her aunt's offer. "I would like to buy one of your slaves," she said. Quinn wasn't surprised at all. Annoyance would actually be the closest description to how she felt.

"I don't think this is the right time or place to discuss this sort of matter," George said with a chuckle. Quinn blessed his heart for always doing what she needed done.

"Which one?" Judy asked, covering her full mouth with the cloth napkin.

"Rachel," Lady Angeline replied with a shrug - as if she had just said the first name that popped up in her head. As if she didn't have a whole plan behind it. Quinn's hand ran cold as she watched both her parents raising their eyebrows, but for fully different reasons. Russell was caught in a coughing fit

"No, you can't take her," Russell answered with a scoff, when he was finally able to breath again.

"Why not?" Quinn asked, turning to her father. She didn't want to let out any accusations in her tone of voice, but the way he started to fumble with his hands didn't leave her any doubts.

"Yes, Russel, why not?" Judy pushed further, for once helping Quinn - even if she didn't know yet.

"Well, do _you_ wanna sell her?" Russell asked with a curious frown. He had always been a good actor - everyone in their family was. They wouldn't have been able to live together otherwise. He coughed again. "I would advise you not to, but at the end of the day is still your choice," he said with a shrug.

"No," Quinn answered with a roll of her eyes. It disgusted her to see him pretending nothing had ever happened. That he was simply doing what _she_ wanted. As if that was ever the case in that family. As if anyone ever cared about what she wanted.

"Are you sure?" Lady Angeline asked with a small smirk, that Quinn was almost sure she was the only one that could see. "I could pay you enough to buy at least three new slaves, all for yourself."

"I said no," Quinn reinforced, placing her fork at the edge of the plate a little too forceful. She was ready to end that conversation - she had been ready even before it began. She hadn't consider accepting that offer not even for a second.

"Why not, Quinn?" Judy asked. "This is actually a great idea! I know that you might be hesitant because it looks like she is finally learning how to behave, but she's only fooling you Quinn. I've seen it in her eyes - she's the worst type of slave we could have. I'm sure she'll stab you in the back soon enough. Lady Angeline is doing us a favor!"

"May I say _again_ how I think this is not the right time for this discussion?" George tried once more, but his father simply placed a hand on top of his as if he was just calming down a child who had been interrupting the adults' conversation. It infuriated Quinn how belittling her father could be - but then again, a lot of things about him seemed to be upsetting her lately.

"Rachel is _mine_ , and she's not going anywhere. There is no discussion," Quinn stated, grabbing back the fork and taking a piece of ham to her mouth in an attempt to finish the conversation. Lady Angeline took another glance at Russell, but he simply shrugged.

"She is right, there's nothing I can do. Rachel is her property," he said.

Something about the way he said it infuriated Quinn even further. Maybe because he didn't know Rachel had become much more than just a property. Or maybe because Quinn knew that those words that slipped out of his mouth didn't mean he respected her enough to leave _her_ _property_ alone.

* * *

Quinn walked inside her room slamming doors, and Rachel jumped in startle dropping the pillow she had been fluffing up. Quinn had told her to stay in her room during dinner that night, and Rachel hated not knowing what was going on - even more now that she saw how worked up Quinn was.

Everything had been too perfect on those last days. Of course someone had to come along to ruin everything.

Rachel had enjoyed Lady Angeline's company when she first met her. The woman had been kind and caring. She made Rachel feel like more than a simple slave. She kissed her. It never felt as good as Quinn's kisses, but still. Quinn wasn't the kindest and had more than a handful of flaws - but she made Rachel feel things that Rachel wasn't even close to being able to explain.

"Is everything okay, miss Quinn?" she asked as Quinn pulled the pins out of her hair with all her strength, bringing along whole strands of hair out off her scalp. Rachel walked over to her to try to help, but Quinn winced and she took a step back.

"No," Quinn answered coldly. It had been a while since the last time Quinn had answered her like that, but Rachel felt like she had earned the right to try once more. They were just getting closer. Quinn couldn't go all the way back so suddenly.

"What happened?" she whispered, placing one gentle hand on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn stopped and sighed deeply, before sitting on the bench and giving in. Rachel started untangling her hair and waited for an explanation.

"Nothing happened," Quinn replied, and Rachel didn't have to give it a second thought to be able to see Quinn had been lying. Quinn was tense from the tip of her toes to the end of her nose, and if Rachel had learned something on the last nights they had spent together was that she knew exactly how to help Quinn get that tension out.

"Do you need help?" She asked with a small smirk, lightly scratching Quinn's scalp when she was done brushing the long hair.

"No," said Quinn, getting up at once and walking to the dressing room.

They didn't exchange one word as Rachel stripped her bare and helped her into her night gown. None of them said anything as she covered Quinn up either. She knew how far she could go, and she wasn't willing to unnerve Quinn even more - especially knowing how she would be the one to face the consequences if the meaner Quinn made an appearance. But as she turned around to go to sleep in the dressing room, where she should have been sleeping for the past months, Quinn sat up in bed again.

"Where are you going?" Quinn asked.

"To sleep, miss Quinn," Rachel answered. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"But why are you going there?" Quinn asked with a frown. The confusion in Quinn's face surprised Rachel. It was almost as if Quinn hadn't realized how distant she had been all night. If Rachel couldn't help, she didn't want to be the one to make it worse either. And she surely didn't want to have it all taken out on her.

"Well, my wounds are all better, perhaps I should go back to-" Rachel tried to reason, but Quinn lifted her hand to stop Rachel before she could even finish.

"Shut up," Quinn said with a shake of her head, and pulled down the covers of the other side - Rachel's side. "Come here," she said, and Rachel wondered how she could be so rude and yet so soft, all at the same time.

Rachel never knew what was an order and what was a request, but either way she wouldn't deny what she was being asked. It wasn't even because of how comfortable Quinn's bed was in comparison to thin sheet she would lay on in the dressing room.

It was just the way Quinn mindlessly wrapped her arm around Rachel's waist and dropped a quiet kiss on her temple before falling asleep. It was the way her heart swelled and how she felt it wouldn't fit inside her chest anymore. And it was the simple fact that she felt confident enough to steal a peck of Quinn's lips and know that it was okay.

When the night came, and it was only the two of them on that bed - it was always okay.

* * *

"Why are you so impressed by my aunt?" Quinn asked out of nowhere.

Rachel made Quinn's bed as she had breakfast in the small table by the window. Quinn seemed tense ever since the night before, but had turned down every attempt of Rachel trying to understand what was happening. Suddenly, she made it all clear.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked in a murmur, buying herself time.

"I've seen the way you look at her. The way you behave when she's around," Quinn shrugged, and it made Rachel want to giggle. The way she tried to pretend it didn't affect her. It was heart-warming, to say the least, that Quinn would get so jealous of her.

"Well, she's a Lady, miss Quinn," said Rachel, opening up the curtains. Quinn cringed when a streak of light hit her eyes. "I simply treat her accordingly."

"I'm a Lady too, did you know?" Quinn asked, and this time Rachel couldn't hold back her chuckle. "It's true. My dad is the marquess. We just don't use the titles here."

"I know, milady," Rachel answered playfully. Quinn didn't seem to be amused by it.

"She fancies you," Quinn teased.

"I know that too," said Rachel. Quinn huffed.

"What about you?" Quinn asked. Rachel thought of playing dumb again, and asking what Quinn meant by that - but she knew perfectly well. And it was so surprising that Quinn would have such an open conversation with her, that she chose to reply honestly.

"May I speak truthfully without the fear of punishment?" Rachel asked, stopping her chores to look Quinn in the eye.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked. Rachel knew Quinn, too, was buying herself time.

"If I tell you what I really think and feel, will you promise not to punish me for it?" Quinn nodded, and Rachel went on. "I think she's a good person. She was the first one to treat me well in this house. I'm fond of her." Rachel could see Quinn tensing up even more, and resumed her chores to give Quinn the time to digest what she just heard.

"What about my father?" Quinn asked, and Rachel nearly dropped the water jar she held in her hands. She had no idea Quinn had any knowledge about that matter. "Someone I trust told me they have seen you two together. Tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened," Rachel answered quickly, with a shake of her head. Quinn raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and Rachel explained herself afraid Quinn would lose the trust she had in her. "He went after me a few times, but nothing ever happened."

"What did he say to you?" Quinn asked in a frown.

"That I should leave the door open so he could stop by at night," Rachel answered in a murmur. Quinn gasped. "But you know, your door is always locked. He couldn't reach me. Nothing happened." She wasn't sure who she was trying to reassure more, Quinn or herself. She knew it was a mere matter of lucky that she had been able to hide for so long.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Quinn whispered, playing with her tea just to avoid Rachel's eyes.

"Well, Quinn, would you have believe a slave instead of your own father?" Rachel asked with a sad smile. Quinn didn't answer her. She didn't have to - they both the answer. Rachel had almost thought the conversation was over when Quinn spoke again.

"This is disgusting," Quinn sneered to herself. "What makes they think they're entitled to have you?"

"The fact that I'm a slave," Rachel answered. She didn't know if Quinn had really waited for an answer, but the question felt too obvious for her. Quinn got up and stopped Rachel with one hand on her shoulder. Rachel shivered when she saw the pain in Quinn's eyes. If only Quinn knew everything Rachel had ever been through.

"If anyone else comes onto you, you tell me. No excuses," she said. Rachel nodded. Quinn left a shy kiss on her shoulder, and walked into her dressing room. "Fetch me a gown, I need to be dressed."

The contrast between the care and the assertiveness made Rachel sigh. She wanted to trust Quinn and to let go of herself to feel everything her heart forced onto her, but it was hard when she constantly reminded of their positions.

* * *

"What is there between you and your slave?" Lady Angeline asked, sitting by Quinn's side. Quinn tried to act relaxed, but only she knew how quick her heart beat against her ribcage.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Quinn answered, without letting her eyes wander away from the book in her hands. She could see her aunt's reactions in her peripheral vision, but didn't let it affect her.

"Oh, you know perfectly well," she scoffed. Quinn ignored it and turned the page in her book. "I'm warning you, Quinn. You should tell me before something happens. Before someone else finds out."

"Are you _trying_ to threaten me?" Quinn asked with an incredulous huff, finally putting her book down. "I have nothing to tell you."

"I know what you did to the letters I sent her," said Lady Angeline. Quinn was caught back in surprise and sealed her lips. "That's right, Quinn. I know more than you think. The walls in this farm have ears. I know _everything_ , I'm just waiting to hear it from your mouth."

"And what exactly do you wanna hear, aunt Angeline?" Quinn asked in the most mockful voice.

"That you like Rachel," Lady Angeline said. The easiness she let go those words made Quinn get lightheaded, but she acted tough. She wouldn't let go so easily. "That you were jealous when you read the letters I sent her, because you love her."

"No, I don't!" She answered by instinct, but felt her heart falling at her own words. _Didn't she?_ She had no idea. She felt _something_ for Rachel, and although she wasn't sure it was love, it felt wrong to deny it so fiercely.

"This isn't the life you want, Quinn," said Lady Angeline, ignoring Quinn's attempts to lie to her. Quinn's palms got sweaty and, again, she was glad no one could notice it. "That won't work at this farm. People in here won't admit it. They're not open minded enough."

"Again, I have no idea what you are talking about," Quinn got back to her book, trying to act as if she didn't care at all about the doubts her aunt tried to put in her head. As if they weren't there since forever.

"I'm serious, Quinn, I'm trying to help you," she said. "Come to America with me. Things are easier there. No one will know, and no one will be able to do anything against you. I'll help you out, and perhaps you can even get more advanced painting lessons."

"You can't be serious," Quinn chuckled. "This is my home, and I have no reason to leave it. I'm not sure, are you not hearing me or just ignoring me? I told you, I don't know what you are talking about," she said. Inside, her whole body shook. Outside, she was a steady rock.

"You can bring Rachel, I wouldn't mind," Lady Angeline went on. "We could share her, and I wouldn't even charge you of rent and food."

That was all it took. Quinn had been patient enough and tried the best she could to maintain her composure - but to hear her aunt talking about Rachel like that was a whole different thing from reading the nasty things she had written to Rachel. Quinn lift her hand, but stopped it mid-air when she realized the consequences her act could have.

"If I were you, I would leave this room right now before I do something both of us would regret," Quinn said, closing her hand in a tight fist and lowering it to the side of her body. Lady Angeline rose a single eyebrow and started to laugh. Quinn frowned.

"I knew it," Lady Angeline answered with a giggle. "If I had known before that all it took to get a confession of you was to make you think of me fucking your slave, I would have told you before."

Lady Angeline left, but the image in Quinn's mind never did. She fell back onto the chair and felt her eyes welling up as her face blushed deep red in anger. She _was_ jealous, yes.

She couldn't say she loved Rachel.

But she couldn't say she didn't either.

* * *

"I feel trapped," Quinn cried out, holding her tears as George wrapped her arms around her. "I'm scared she will tell someone or do something and I just know I could never stop her, she has so much more power than I do," she said with a sob. "But at the same time, I don't wanna move to America with her. I couldn't stand being there alone with her for the rest of my life, George!"

"Quinn, she can't do anything to you. Don't worry okay?" He said, hugging her tighter. She nodded between sobs, but she couldn't be as sure as he was. "I'm here and I'll always be on your side. Besides, she can't use that against you because you could use the exact same thing against her. Everything will be fine."

"I hope you're right," she whispered, burying her head on his shoulder. "I asked Rachel about father and she said it's true. I'm so angry, George. I feel like this whole farm is built on lies and that I'm the last one to realize that."

"You're right, Quinn. Everyone knows. This is just how things happen around here, and it is horrible indeed, but it's almost impossible to change it. I should know," he let out a hurtful chuckle. Quinn sighed.

"It's just so absurd that they think they can go after Rachel and do whatever they want to her simply because she is a slave!"

"Quinn?" George asked, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. "How is that any different from what you have been doing?" Quinn gasped and pulled back, wrapping her own arms around herself protectively. If someone had shot, her she wouldn't have felt so attacked.

"It is completely different!" She exclaimed, but George didn't say anything, and she knew she would have to think further. "Well, for starters, she's mine!" She said, but soon realized that argument sounded as unfair as the ones she had been condemning earlier. "And I didn't go for her just because she's a slave and couldn't say no!"

"Why did you go for her, then?"

"Well, because-" Quinn took a deep breath and shook her head. It was under pressure when her biggest realizations always hit her. When she didn't have the time to come up with excuses. "Because I think I might love her!" she cried out, saying the one thing that her mind had been yelling at her and she simply couldn't ignore anymore.

"You think?" George asked, and Quinn groaned, sitting down and hugging her own legs.

"Yes, I _think_. I can't know for sure because I have never been in love before, but I have never felt like this before either. She's the first person that has ever made me _feel_ things so intensely and whenever I think about her I feel like my heart will explode and I used to think it was because I hated her so much but then I see people doing things like that to her and I realize I don't want people even talking about her cause I want her to be only mine and I just want to protect her and make sure she is okay and- well, if that isn't hate it must be love right?"

"Quinn, calm down, alright? You are a rambling mess and you're barely making any sense," George said with a smile. Quinn couldn't understand how he could smile in a time like that. "If you love her, that changes everything. That makes you better than most people in our family, and I'm very proud to hear you say that out loud. I know it mustn't been easy for you. But you've hurt her while you were confused, so it's not me that you need to tell that to. She's the one to needs to be reassured by you. And it should be soon, before you lose her to someone else who's not afraid of using everything they got to get what they want."

The thought of saying those words out loud to Rachel terrified her. But nothing was more terrifying than the thought of losing Rachel to anyone.

* * *

Rachel laid by her side, as her brother's words resonated inside her head. She loved her, but she would never be brave enough to say it. Rachel closed her eyes, and Quinn could almost see her drifting into sleep - but she couldn't let her go. Her body needed Rachel, it needed someone that would be strong enough to pull the words out of her mouth. And she didn't know anyone stronger than Rachel.

Quietly, she brushed her thumb against Rachel's cheek. Perhaps if Rachel were asleep, she could take it as a sign that she just shouldn't say anything. Rachel opened her eyes at once. Quinn's stomach fluttered. Rachel's eyes begged for the words she couldn't say, even if only unconsciously. Rachel turned to her side to face Quinn. She always knew when Quinn needed her, even if Quinn wasn't willing to admit. Her heart swelled all over again.

"Will you kiss me?" Quinn asked. She wanted- needed it. But she wasn't giving Rachel any more orders when it came to that kind of matter. If they were doing anything, Rachel would have a choice. She wanted to know Rachel was into it as much as she was.

Rachel smiled, and it was almost as sweet as her taste. The taste that never left Quinn's lips, no matter how long it had been since she had last touched them. Rachel leaned forward and the simple smell of her breath already made Quinn shudder. They kissed, and Quinn was a puddle. She didn't have to give any further instructions. Her hunger was all the indication Rachel needed, and soon enough Quinn was pinned onto the bed as Rachel straddled her.

Her night gown was up her stomach in a matter of seconds, and every inch of her body was being kissed. With every kiss, Quinn's lips quivered to say those words, but all that left her mouth were moans and moans and moans - until Rachel covered her mouth with her hand. Quinn licked her palm and Rachel slapped her thigh. Nothing would be able to suppress the groan Quinn let out.

Quinn gripped Rachel's side and dug her nails against Rachel's stomach in an attempt to get her gown up. Rachel shook her head and grabbed Quinn's hands.

"Rach," Quinn cried out, but Rachel stopped it with her mouth. Out of that bedroom, Quinn was a queen, ordering and getting all her wishes granted. In their bedroom, she had no voice. Rachel led their way, but still, Quinn got all her wishes granted anyway.

"I'm touching you first," Rachel whispered against her mouth. Quinn nodded with all her heart. As if she could ever say no. She became undone under Rachel's touch, arching up her back until her hair was caught by Rachel's hand to keep her up. Their chest pressed against each other, breaths in synch and heart beats slamming in the most beautiful song.

Rachel's touch was raw and and ruthless and _she loved it_. Her fingers carved deeper within Quinn, and her mouth hovered by Quinn's earlobe close enough for Quinn to hear the shy moans Rachel let out - it only made Quinn want her more. She loved every second of it. She needed Rachel to feel the same. She needed Rachel's heart to explode against hers in a love that would either kill them or be their salvation. And in the secluded escape of their bedroom, Quinn felt shameless in her begging.

"Let me touch you too," she whispered in a cry, grabbing a fistful of the sheets - anything to keep herself obedient to Rachel's orders. "Please, Rachel," she asked.

Even when surrendering, Rachel didn't let Quinn take control. She grabbed Quinn's hand and guided it exactly where she wanted. As if Quinn didn't know. As if they hand't learned each other's body by heart, enough to be able to travel it blindly and bring the other down within seconds. The first loud groan escaped Rachel's mouth, and Quinn chuckled in pleasure. She would be able to come with that sound alone. But it was only a moment before Rachel grabbed the back of her neck to make her forget who she was.

"Bite me," Quinn asked, and Rachel did. Hard, above Quinn's breast.

Her skin burned and bent against Rachel's lips. The half moon of Rachel's tooth was immediately marked down on her clear skin, almost as pink as the QF that adorned Rachel's shoulder. She regretted everything she had ever done to hurt Rachel, and she would take every single one of her acts back if she could. But her fingers traced her initials on Rachel's skin, and she felt the fire under it that meant that Rachel was hers, and only hers, and nothing else would ever matter. Rachel groaned again, and pulled her closer. And Quinn knew she felt it too. They shared that fire, and it was only theirs, and it was all that mattered.

"Does _Lady Angeline_ make you moan like that?" Quinn asked in an angry groan, and Rachel slapped her face. It was unexpected - but not more unexpected than how much pleasure Quinn found on the act.

"Shut up," Rachel whispered back. Quinn wanted to obey, but how could she, when Rachel touched her like that? Their rhythm sped up with Rachel's words. Quinn wasn't sure which one of them liked it better when Rachel was in command. Quinn's legs started trembling, and she knew it was close. Rachel knew too. "Wait for me," she said.

Quinn had no idea how to do so. She tried to steady her legs around Rachel's hand, but each flicker felt like a push closer to the abysm and all she wanted to do was fall. To let herself fall, deeper and deeper in love with Rachel. But she knew it would be worth to wait until Rachel was able to fall with her. And they did, together. Bodies crumbling down the mattress, intertwined and sweaty, shaking and gasping. The three words never felt so close.

Her body immediately missed the heat brought on by Rachel. The breeze that entered through the breaches on the window got them back to reality. Even those words wouldn't be able to express the happiness she felt to know that she could drop a sweet kiss on Rachel's cheek after such an intense moment, and it would still feel natural. As if her body had been made to fit perfectly against Rachel's bare one.

"Should we light up the fire?" Rachel asked, brushing away goosebumps in Quinn's arm. It was heartening to see Rachel changing back to her sweet self. There were so many versions of her hidden inside that body, and Quinn delighted in learning every and each one of them. She nodded, still out of words to agree out loud.

Rachel had always struggled with the fire. From day one, it was the one thing she couldn't master. She kneeled by the fireplace, and Quinn watched as she struggled to get the fire going. With a chuckle, Quinn got up to be by her side. Distance was unbearable then. She caught the fire plow from Rachel's hand and worked it with a familiarity that left Rachel opened mouth.

"I didn't know you could do that," Rachel whispered, watching Quinn with knit together eyebrows in curiosity. Quinn looked up at her and smiled, but sighed right after.

"I watched slaves doing it, and I learned," she shrugged, but when for a second it crossed her mind that Rachel could conceive that as condescending, she explained herself. "Sometimes I feel like you're more intelligent than me. That you can do things I never could," she whispered, catching Rachel's attention and drawing in a deep breath. If only courage would come with the air. "And it scared me, that I couldn't live without you. So I learned," she said. Rachel gave her a shy smile and caught her hand. It was the simplest act, and somehow it made up for all the things unsaid between them. Except for the ones Quinn needed to say the most. "I still can't, though. Live without you."

"Quinn?" Rachel asked. Quinn lifted her head to realize how close Rachel was. Her hair fell around her face, a change from the usual tied up bun she had during work days. Quinn had never seen an angel, but she couldn't imagine it looking better than that. The crackling of the fire only made their proximity feel more intimate - even more than when their bodies became one moments before. "I'm not doing this with anyone else," Rachel whispered.

It was all Rachel had to say. It erased all the doubts that could have clouded Quinn's mind and cut all the ties that were keeping her on the earth. She was free to fall. Every insecurity her aunt had tried to ground onto her head had vanished with a simple sentence. Rachel was hers, and only hers. And she knew exactly what she had to say to give Rachel the same joy she was feeling after hearing that.

"Rachel?" She asked, although their eyes were already locked. She closed them, because it was all too much. She felt Rachel's hand against her hand, and it was enough. "I love you," she whispered, barely audible. The grip on her hand was tightened instantly. Rachel's lips caught hers at once, and it tasted just like the words she wanted to hear, but didn't.

_I love you back._


	19. Chapter 19

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"Your aunt has told me to you send you her regards," said Russell, cutting a piece of apple on his plate. "She had to go back to America this morning for an emergency and didn't have a chance to give you the proper goodbye."

It was just a reflex for Quinn to look over her shoulder and to see how Rachel would react. Rachel smiled quietly, and Quinn smiled back. The night before had reassured her, but she breathed easier knowing Lady Angeline was an ocean away. She was certain Rachel wasn't interested in her aunt, but she also knew for sure that wasn't enough to stop Lady Angeline from trying - and she had discovered herself to be quite a jealous person.

"I think I'll survive," Quinn answered with a chuckle, resting her silverware on the edge of her plate as they finished breakfast. "May I be excused? I have planned to go riding today, and I need to check if the horses have been saddled."

"Yes, dear," her father answered with a nod, covering his mouth with his napkin to silent a cough. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat before continuing. "You won't be going alone, will you?" He quirked up one eyebrow. She knew quite well his reservations on letting her wander alone through the farm. She wondered when he would trust her enough to let her do so. She forced herself to think he was so protective only because he worried too much about her, and not because he had anything to hide.

"No, father," she answered with a small smile, trying to hide her annoyance. It wasn't easy to treat her father the same after everything she found out - although it wasn't as terrible as it would be if he had done more than only insinuate what he could do to Rachel. Still, she owned him respect and had to respond to him. "I'm bringing Rachel with me," she said.

"Be sure you both are back before the sunset, Quinn," said George, wiping the corner of his mouth. Her father smiled, but Quinn frowned. "You can't be late for dinner tonight."

"What's so important about dinner tonight, anyway?" Quinn asked, placing her cloth napkin by her plate as she moved her chair to get up. "You have been talking about this dinner for days now, but I still don't seem to understand the reason for it."

"You will find out tonight, if you manage to get here on time," he answered with a wink, and Quinn shook her head before leaving.

She wasn't too keen of surprises.

* * *

"Miss Quinn, I might fall!" Rachel whined as they walked down the hill with Quinn covering Rachel's eyes. Quinn could be taking her anywhere, and she wouldn't even know - but after hearing Quinn confessing her love, Rachel had gained so much trust in Quinn that she didn't even falter when agreeing to let Quinn lead her. However, that didn't make her regret it as they started walking and she felt her heart slamming against her chest in fear of what she would find once she opened her eyes.

"I won't let you fall, don't worry," Quinn giggled, grabbing Rachel's hand. Rachel assumed they were close from the house, because Quinn wouldn't have grabbed her hand in front of anyone, but still. It felt nice to walk hand in hand. Side by side, as if there wasn't such an abysm between them whenever there were more people around. "And I've told you, you don't have to call me Miss when there's no one around."

"Well, I wouldn't know if there was anyone around," Rachel replied teasingly.

"Okay, you're right," Quinn giggled and it sounded like a melody. "Alright, are you ready?" she asked, and Rachel nodded vigorously. Quinn took her hand off of Rachel's eyes and she fluttered open her eyelids - but pouted when she didn't see anything different. They were at the stable, but Rachel had been there several times before. She looked up at Quinn in confusion, and Quinn explained. "Go check stall number 5."

Rachel walked in carefully, the frown on her face disappearing with each step as she greeted every single one of the horses she walked by. When she reached the stall Quinn had mentioned, her eyes grew immediately. Upon her, stood a tall white horse with dark spots all over its fur and a black mane that shined brighter than the night. The horse turned his head hearing the footsteps, and walked closer to the door with the kindest eyes Rachel had ever seen on an animal.

"That's Ace," Quinn said, tilting her head towards the horse and leaning against the wood stall.

"Oh, God!" Rachel exclaimed with a gasp, leaning forward to caress the horse's forehead. "Ace, you are beautiful!" The horse seemed to respond to her, lowering its head further at the compliments. Rachel just about melted. She felt silly for liking horses so much - she thought she would have outgrown that for now. But how could she when the horse relished showing his teeth? It was too adorable. "And so friendly!"

"He is also yours," Quinn said, nonchalantly. Rachel's smile fell, and she turned to Quinn with a face of pure startle. She wasn't sure her heart was still beating.

"Are you serious?" She asked in a murmur. She didn't know if she was being too naive for even considering it, but if Quinn had been joking she would be devastated.

"Yes, I'm serious," Quinn grinned. Rachel didn't think for a second before wrapping her arms tightly against Rachel's neck, regardless of how careless it was to do so without checking for people around them. She just couldn't hold back on the happiness that she felt at that moment. "I mean, I can't put it on your name and you can't really tell people that it's yours, but I have warned Malcolm and Hank that no one is allowed to ride it unless I say so."

"Thank you so much, Quinn," Rachel squealed against her neck, squeezing her with all of her strength. It was hard to believe that not only Quinn didn't think it was silly that she liked horses so much, but gave her one to her own. "This is the best gift I have ever got," she whispered. She wouldn't tell Quinn she didn't have many gifts to compare that one to. More than anything, it was the action that drove Rachel crazy. To know that Quinn's words weren't just words. Rachel had no idea how much a horse costed, but she knew it wasn't cheap - and it was all hers.

"Would you like to go ahead and try it?" Quinn asked, opening the stall. "Let's see if this bad boy can win against Star on a race," she challenged.

Rachel was up on the horse before Quinn could even finish her sentence.

* * *

"Why did George make such a fuss about us being here on time if he was going to be late himself?" Quinn groaned, restlessly tapping her fingers against the dinner table. Riding had made her hungry and was always on a bad mood when she was hungry.

"Relax, my dear. He will be here in just a moment," said Russell.

"Why do I have a feeling you know what this is all about?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. Her father shrugged, but it didn't convince her for a second. She didn't have time to put enough thought in the matter, because George entered through the swinging doors with a girl hanging on his arm. Everyone got up, but George quickly waved his hand for them to sit down. He had never been the one for sustaining old customs.

"Good evening, family," he said, pulling back a chair for the girl before sitting down himself. "I would like to introduce you to Arabella of Argon, although I believe you have met already." Quinn tensed up and her whole face clenched instinctively. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she didn't like it already.

"Oh, I believe we have!" said Judy, with a voice that was unfamiliar to Quinn. Somewhat warm and soothing and exactly what Arabella should need to calm her blinkering nervous eyes. Quinn didn't remember ever meeting the girl before, but didn't care enough to introduce herself. "It's a pleasure to see you again, dear," Judy said.

Quinn remained silently and gave a small bow of her head as a greeting. She rarely enjoyed visits, and despised them even more when she wasn't warned beforehand about them. George didn't seem to notice - nor did anyone at the table. Every single pair of eyes in the room were focused on the effortless beauty of Arabella, with her dark locks pinned onto the back of her head and her piercing blue eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes. She hadn't even said one word yet and everyone was enchanted by her. Including Rachel.

Quinn yanked her head to the side - the signal that Rachel knew well and that told her she was supposed leave the room. Not that Quinn was _only_ jealous. She had a bad feeling about that dinner, and would rather protect Rachel from the unsettledness.

"It's delightful to meet you all once again," said Arabella, and Quinn flashed her one of her most fake smiles. Even the girl's voice sounded too perfect.

"Alright, now shall we dine?" said George, seeming content about how the greetings had gone. Quinn could notice there was something different about him. He was thrilled. Ecstatic even. Too joyful to realize how uncomfortable she was with the situation. She hated being in the dark. She hated that she seemed to be the only one who had no idea what was happening - and not even the food would be able to get her back from such bad mood.

Russell nodded and the slaves started serving dinner.

Between forks and spoons of stuffed pheasant and stewed oysters, the family exchanged some small talk and Quinn watched both her brother and Arabella becoming at ease with the whole situation. She was the only one left with food swirling inside her stomach and with a bad feeling that she couldn't seem to shake.

"Alright, what is this all about?" she asked in an attempt to figure out what everyone seemed to know but no one would mention, as Dorea took away everyone's plates before bringing in dessert.

"Quinn!" Judy repressed.

"It's alright, mother," George intervened, placing a gentle hand on top of his mother's as she tensed up. As if Quinn hadn't been tense for the whole duration of that dinner. "I think it's time we share those fantastic news!"

"What news, my darling?" Judy asked, her voice changing back to the soft tone she reserved only for George. Quinn could read her mother like an open book and it only made her more angry to see how bluntly her mother could lie. Quinn didn't know what George was talking about, but her mother sure did.

"Arabella and I are engaged," he said proudly, glancing at her with so much love that Quinn thought she would drown. Instead, she choked on her own saliva.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Russell asked, and Quinn nodded suppressing her urge to cough. She didn't have time for that. Her urge to know what kind of joke she had just heard was bigger.

"What do you mean? Engaged?" she asked incredulous, ignoring how Judy used her cloth napkin to wipe a tear that simply didn't exist.

"Engaged to be married, Quinn," he explained with a small chuckle. It infuriated Quinn how he put it in a way that made it sound she was stupid and couldn't understand such a simple sentence. He knew she had understood it. He knew that wasn't what she was asking.

"Why don't _you_ seem surprised?" She turned and asked her father with a glare she had never directed at him before. Her father started coughing again and it made her boil inside to think it was just his way of avoiding her questions. He had been coughing a lot lately. It made sense.

"Well, I have turned to father to ask for advice a few months ago," George explained again. It was George. He always defended whoever he thought was being attacked. As if her father needed that kind of protection.

"Months? This has been going on for _months_?" Quinn asked with a gasp. Arabella seemed frozen in her seat and somehow that only drove Quinn angrier. "How could I not know abou this?"

"It's alright, sister," he tried to calm her down, reaching for her hand over the table. She winced back and placed her hands on her lap, way out of his reach. "You were too caught up in your own problems. I don't blame you. I figured you wouldn't have realized as Arabella and I became closer. That's why I wanted to have this dinner, to let you know."

"Well, _I_ blame _you_!" she sneered.

"Quinn, dear." Her father shot her a glance that wasn't usual coming from him, but it wasn't enough to stop her either.

"No," she said in a scoff, ignoring his quiet plea for her to stop making a scene. "I blame him! You should have told me! I can't believe you didn't tell me after I opened up to you so many times! After everything I told you, George!"

"Quinn, I'm telling you now," George said with a nervous laugh. He grabbed Arabella's hand. Quinn wasn't sure if he tried he reassure his wife-to-be - caught in the middle of a family fight - or if he just needed to hold onto something to keep himself grounded.

"And now what, brother?" she asked, with her eyes welling up even as she tried to fight back her tears. "You are gonna get married and leave me again. Just after we started getting closer like we once were. Just when I thought there was hope for us as a family."

"Quinn, I'm not leaving you! I will move to grandmother's house in Basseterre, that's just a carriage ride away. You can visit me whenever you want, and I'll make sure to have the best room in the house ready for whenever you come. Nothing has to change between us," he said, gently tilting his head.

"Nothing will change," Quinn repeated in a mocking voice. "I don't believe you." She giggled sadly. She was alone again, in a house that had always been so hostile to her presence and would become even more once they found out the sins she had been committing. "You're a traitor, George. I'm never forgiving you," she growled between breaths.

"Quinn, I think you are done," Judy roared, firing the angriest glare at her. "If you are not ready to share your brother's and our family happiness, you are to go to your room and eat there alone. Leave at once!"

And Quinn did, because in all honesty, she didn't even feel like a part of that family at all.

* * *

"Rachel!" Lou Lee half-yelled as soon as Rachel entered the kitchen house. Abbie and Dorea were in the dining room, helping with the food, and it was the first time in a long that they could talk privately. Lou Lee seemed desperate and Rachel swallowed hard. "I need your help," she whispered, with a teary eye.

"What happened, Lou?" Rachel asked in concern, pulling a chair for the woman to sit as Rachel tried to calm her down. Lou Lee stuttered for a moment, and her jaw quivered as she gathered the forces to tell.

"I'm pregnant," she said. Rachel's hands flung to cover her opened mouth in shock. The act seemed to trigger Lou Lee, who couldn't hold back her tears any longer.

"Oh my goodness," said Rachel, drawing a deep breath and trying to remain calm to think of reasonable solutions. "Is it Bernie's?" she asked. Lou Lee shrugged. She didn't have to say anything else. She didn't know. Rachel knew a lot of men went after Lou Lee, but she didn't know to what degree it ever got. Her heart broke.

"But I'm telling him it's his," she said, before Rachel could figure out what to say. "I guess we will know for sure when the baby it's born. But that's not the problem right now," she said shaking her head. "I need your help."

"I'll help you, don't worry!" Rachel nodded vigorously. She was worried. She had no idea how she would help Lou Lee, but she knew she would have to find a way. They were family after all - and that's what families are for. "Just tell me what you need," she said.

"I could get killed for telling you this, Rachel, but I'm really scared," Lou Lee said, and Rachel rose her eyebrows in surprise. The anticipation would have killed her, if Lou Lee hadn't finished after just a second. "The slaves down the quarters are planning an uprising," she said. Rachel's eyes grew once more.

"An uprising?" she asked. Lou Lee nodded nervously. "Why?" Rachel asked in a frown, and cursed herself for doing so the moment the word left her lips. _Why not_ would be a more sensible question. She knew well what the slaves suffered in the plantation, and it was heartless of her to forget they had their reasons.

"Malcolm has been putting them to work double the amount they ever worked, because since it didn't rain as much early this season the plantation hasn't thrived as much as it should have. Besides, they have been getting less food than usual," Lou Lee explained and Rachel bit her lip. It was way too easy to forget their reality while she slept in a master bed every night and had food in her stomach every morning. "Things are getting dark down there, Rachel."

"Okay," Rachel nodded. She got it, and the details would only unsettled her further. She didn't want them. "What do you need me for?" she asked, feeling a shiver run up her spine. She didn't think she could help with the uprising. She couldn't betray Quinn like that. But she had to know what Lou Lee wanted.

"To help me stop it," Lou Lee said, and Rachel breathed out in relief. It was the exact opposite of what she expected. She had no idea why Lou Lee would ask her so, and Lou Lee noticed her confusion. "They are planning on setting the farm on fire - and that's just _too_ dangerous, Rachel. I can't have that, not right now. I can't risk losing Bernie."

"No, no, you're right," Rachel nodded, biting the corner of her finger nail. It was way too much information all at once and she didn't even know how she should process them, let alone know what to do. "Can't you convince them to do something else?"

"Do you really think they would hear me, Rachel? You know how they feel towards us, that live up here in the big house." She was right and Rachel couldn't even argue. It wasn't fair that she was treated so differently and she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"What's your plan then?"

"I think you should tell someone. George, Quinn, I don't know. Make sure master Russell knows about this, so that he can stop it before it happens," said Lou Lee. "I know I'm putting you in a difficult position, but I swear I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important, Rachel. I will own my life to you if you stop this." Lou Lee was right. It was dangerous for Rachel to be the carrier of such an important information, and she knew it. But she had to do it. She didn't have much in life, but she would fight hard to protect what she had.

"Don't worry," Rachel nodded, resting her head on Lou Lee's stomach and wondering how she hadn't noticed it before. "I'll help you."

* * *

"Quinn, thank God you're here, I need to tell you-" Rachel exclaimed as soon as Quinn walked into the door, but Quinn cut her short before she could go on.

"Not now, Rach," she groaned, throwing herself on her bed and yelling against her pillow. She felt the mattress lowering when Rachel sat by her side and placed a hand onto her back. Not even that was enough to calm her down.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a murmur, ever so careful. Quinn sighed deeply before sitting up. Perhaps talking to Rachel could help. Rachel wasn't the most talkative one, but when she did talk, she always seemed to know the right think to say.

"George is getting married," she said. Rachel didn't draft a reaction, and Quinn went on. "He's leavin," she explained, thinking Rachel hadn't understand the implications of what she had told her. "I can't believe he is leaving again," she murmured under her breath.

"I'm sorry," Rachel answered, but Quinn could see her mind was somewhere else. By instinct, she wanted - and would have - lashed out on Rachel. Rachel should be paying attention to what Quinn was saying. She should be consoling Quinn and a simple _I'm sorry_ wasn't even close to what Quinn needed. Rachel was an easy target and it wouldn't bring her any consequences if she simply took off all her rage there. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Rachel was and would always be everything she had, and she had to cherish that. If Rachel needed her attention too, she would give it all to her - even if it meant having to put all her problems aside and for once thinking of someone else before her.

"What did you wanna say?" Quinn asked in a murmur, shaking her head. She counted on Rachel's news to take her mind out of the anger she felt towards her brother at the moment - but when Rachel told her what Lou Lee had said, Quinn wished she hadn't asked. For someone who had had such a dream of an afternoon riding with Rachel, her day surely had changed in a blink to become something out of her worst nightmares.

"Stay here," Quinn said, looking out of the window to make sure nothing had started already. "I need to tell my father." Rachel nodded, and Quinn's stomach sank when she saw the fear in Rachel's eyes. It was selfish of her to think only of herself and not consider the afflictions Rachel went through - which were undoubtedly much more serious. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered, dropping a kiss onto Rachel's hand. "Don't worry, okay? You're safe in here," Quinn said. Rachel nodded and forced a small smile as Quinn left.

Quinn opened her father's office door without even knocking. Her first mistake. He would always go his office after dinner to check and see what the day had been like in the plantation, and hated to be interrupted when he needed to focus.

"Father!" Quinn opened the door breathless.

"Excuse you, young lady, have you not been taught to knock on a door before opening it?" he said, much louder than the tone he used while talking to her. He got up from his chair and slammed both his hands against the table, making Quinn take a step back in startle. "Have you ever been taught _anything_ in your life, Quinn?" She was shocked to hear him talking to her like that, but she was too caught up on the hurricane that was happening in her mind to even care about what he implied.

"The slaves-" she tried again, but he cut her short.

"Quinn, I don't want to hear anything else from you tonight. I'm done. I'm done with you and your never ending problems with your slave. You were the most selfish spoiled brat at dinner tonight, and I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from my daughter. I love you, but I didn't raise you like this! This is not the way you will run this farm!"

Quinn felt her blood boiling up. That was the kind of preaching that always came from her mother, while her father had always been the one on her side. After what Rachel said, Quinn had been able to put her problems in perspective and realized there was a possibility that she might had overreacted during dinner - but she sure as hell didn't need that kind of scolding to notice it. For a moment, she thought of going back to her room. Staying quiet, and letting it all burn. She would move to Basseterre with George. Her father and mother could burn down with the plantation.

But George was to get married, and he wouldn't want to take her, regardless of what he had said. She would have nowhere to go. It would be only her and Rachel, against the world, and without a roof over their heads. So she swallowed her pride, and for once stood up for herself.

"Will you be quiet and listen to me, father?" She said, the loudest her voice had ever been when addressing him. The horror on his face made her stomach twist, and she went on before she could be interrupted again. "The slaves down the quarters are planning an uprising, and they will burn down the whole farm if you don't do anything!"

It was all she had to said to bring his attention back to her.

"Go to bed, Quinn," he said in whisper, looking down to his pocket watch. "Lock your door and don't come out until I go get you." That had always been his instructions when anything dangerous would happen. Quinn breathed out. He could have been furious, but at the first sign of danger his first instinct was to protect her. She nodded and was with her hand on her door knob when he called her again. She turned back and saw all the regret of the world painted in his face. "Thank you, dear" he whispered.

Her father wasn't the hero she had envisioned during her whole childhood. He was flawed, he was deceitful and he had committed several mistakes. But at the end of the day, he believed her. He was on her side. He cared about her. And perhaps he could fit in in the world she and Rachel would share.


	20. Chapter 20

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

A loud banging on the door made Quinn leap her way out of the bed. She had taken forever to fall asleep, looking out of the window restless in fear that her father wouldn't be able to stop the slaves' plans. He was only one, after all, against hundreds of slaves. Rachel had to pull Quinn by the hand and hug her tightly to keep her in bed. Eventually, she fell asleep to the sound of Rachel's heartbeat. But that farm had already a fair share of problems to deal with, and the last thing she needed was for someone to come inside her bedroom and find her sharing a bed with her slave.

"Rach," she whispered. Rachel fluttered her sleepy eyes open, and Quinn smiled. She never woke up before Rachel, and it was endearing to see her face all marked with wrinkles from the sheets. It still surprised her that the simple sight of Rachel could make her mind go blank. Rachel stood there staring at her confused for a good minute until someone knocked on the door again, reminding Quinn of why she had waken up Rachel. "Can you go to the dressing room? Someone is knocking on the door." In a second, Rachel was out of the bedroom and Quinn sighed before going to the door. "Who is it?" she asked in a murmur as fear made her knees buckle.

"It's your father, Quinn. You may open the door now," he said. Before he could step inside, Quinn wrapped her arms around his neck. The discussion they had the night before was long out of her mind, and it was relieving to have him alive and well in front of her after a night of so much worrying. She couldn't stop thinking of what it would feel like to have him die and know that their last memory together would have been a fight.

"Is everything alright?" she asked when she felt strong enough to let go of him and hear everything that could have happened while she was safe inside her bedroom. She hoped one day she would be brave enough to take his place and do the same.

"Yes, everything is alright now," he nodded with a smile. It was only then that Quinn noticed the paleness in his face and the tiredness in his eye. He needed a good sleep. "I have handled everything. You don't need to worry anymore, nothing will happen."

"Oh, that's marvelous!" she sighed, leaning across the door and relaxing the muscles on her shoulders. "What did you do? How did you stop them?"

"It doesn't matter now, what matters is that it's all handled," he shrugged and placed a hand gentle on her shoulder. She smiled. She trusted him enough to not ask any further questions. "But I need to know, Quinn, how did you find out about this? Not even Malcolm, who spends his whole day down the quarters was aware of what was happening."

"I," Quinn stuttered and felt her cheeks getting warmer. She wanted to tell him she had found out on her own. She wanted to make him proud of her. But she couldn't lie. She didn't have time to come up with any plausible story of how she would have found out. "Rachel warned me," she confessed in a murmur. Russell's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

"Well, it's great to see you are finally getting your hand on how to treat her. I knew you would manage, sooner or later. And it's a very good signal that she trusted you enough to tell you that. She might end up being a good addition to this farm and a good helper when you are running this," he smiled and caressed her shoulder. It surprised her, but not as much as she was surprised as he kept talking. "Now, about last night. I'm sorry I snapped at you, dear. I was merely upset about how your brother's dinner turned out. That was not how that dinner should have gone. That night is gonna be forever in your brother's memories and it should be a good one. You know you didn't behave well."

"I know," she rolled her eyes. It hadn't been her best moment, but still, she didn't regret it. She could have behaved differently, but it still wouldn't change how she felt about the whole thing. She was still upset he would be leaving her again. "I'm sorry," she said anyway, just to change the subject. She didn't want to think about it.

"You should apologize to him, not me," Russell said, and Quinn nodded, even though she wouldn't. He should be the one apologizing to her. He was the one leaving. "Anyway, I wanna thank you again. We would be in deep trouble today if it weren't for you. You saved this farm, and it only proves further how deserving you are of it. I'm proud of you, daughter."

Quinn beamed, although she disagreed. The heroine of the night and savior of the farm had been Rachel - but she could never refuse a compliment from her father. They were far too scarce for her to do so. So she nodded, and he walked away with a smile onto his bedroom.

* * *

Rachel walked into the kitchen house tying her hair up in a bun. Quinn had been restless all night and she had barely gotten any sleep, which made her lose track of time in the morning and sleep in for longer than she should have in a regular day. It was crazy to think that not very long ago she would have been punished for that, and in that morning she had been awoken with a kiss on her cheek instead. If it weren't for all the worrying in the pit of her stomach, she would think she had been dreaming.

On the other hand, it felt ruthless to be so happy, while she didn't know what could have happened to the slaves down in the quarters. She only knew a few of them, but it didn't matter. They were slaves just like her, although their treatment was completely different. She could only imagine what they would have to endure after their master found out they had planned an uprising. When she saw Lou Lee sobbing in a corner, with her arms wrapped around her own legs and Dorea caressing her hair, Rachel's heart sank.

"Oh, God, what happened?" she asked, rushing to Lou Lee's side and kneeling on the floor near her. Lou Lee didn't answer - her words weren't able to come out between the incessantly sobs and hiccups. Rachel grabbed her hand and dropped a kiss on it, but Lou Lee only cried harder. "Dorea, tell me what happened!" Rachel begged, looking up to Lou Lee's mother. The woman hesitated, and Rachel felt a tug in her stomach. "Please, tell me!"

"Master has sold Bernie," Dorea finally said.

"Fuck," Rachel whispered under her breath. It was her turn to be out of words.

"I don't know how, but master found out Bernie was one of the planners," Lou Lee wailed, shaking her head. "He was out of the farm before the sun rose. I didn't even had the chance to say goodbye, Rachel. My baby might never know his father, just like I never knew mine. This is not what I want for this baby. This is not what I want." She cried harder. Rachel scooted closer and wrapped her arms around Lou Lee.

"Don't cry, Lou," Rachel whispered, but in truth she had no idea of how to comfort her friend. She figured the slaves would be punished, but not sold. She shivered thinking how awful it would be to have the ones she loved sold away from her, and never knowing what would happen to them. "I will try to talk to Quinn and see if she can find out where he went to, okay?"

"No, no!" Lou Lee begged, shaking her head hard. "You have helped us a lot already preventing the fire, Rachel, but I don't think you should get involved in those matters anymore. I will see what I can do," she said with a nod, but then scoffed in a broken smile. "It might not even be his baby anyway," she said. Rachel's lip were closed tightly. It hurt her just to think about being in Lou Lee's situation. "God, I don't want this baby, mama!" She cried, hiding her face in her hands.

"Now, don't you say that, Lou!" Dorea said. Lou Lee swallowed a sob. "That baby hasn't come in a good time and I know it's scary to not even know what color it will be when it's born, but I promise you, you will love that baby with all you have the second it is born! It will help you forget what happened to Bernie and it will bring you a happiness you have never felt before," she said soothingly.

"And we will all help you!" Rachel exclaimed, placing one hand on Lou Lee's stomach. "We're gonna pour so much love in to that tiny baby that it won't even notice there isn't a father around," she said in her sweetest voice. Lou Lee sighed deeply and shut her eyes tightly to try to stop the tears. "It will be fine, Lou. We'll help you. We've got you."

"Yo, are you Rachel?" asked a black man Rachel didn't recall ever seeing, as he peeked his head into the kitchen house.

"Yes," Rachel answered with a confused frown.

"Someone's calling for you," he said, before disappearing. Rachel got up to leave, but Dorea grabbed her arm. Her eyes were bulged out with fear and Rachel assumed it was because she didn't know how to deal with Lou Lee's incessantly sobs.

"I gotta go, I think it might be Quinn. She must be done with her breakfast already," Rachel said, patting down her apron. She wished she could spend the whole day down in the kitchen house, but she couldn't abuse of Quinn's recent kindness. "I'll be back to check on you later, but please, don't worry so much, Lou. We'll all be fine!"

* * *

Quinn had already had lunch, and Rachel hadn't come back. Even George had asked of her, and if Quinn wasn't ignoring him she would have confessed she was starting to worry. Rachel had left in the morning to take Quinn's gowns to the laundry room, and hadn't come back ever since. Quinn knew that sometimes Rachel took longer than usual, remembering she had some forgotten chore to get done - but she never took _so_ long. Quinn felt something warm in her chest when she realized the only thing in her mind was concern. She wasn't angry. She didn't feel the need to punish Rachel, the so strong need that never left her head before.

"Abigail?" Quinn asked, as Abbie took away the plates from their dining table. The slave turned herself towards Quinn and bowed her head, in a silent acknowledgment. "Have you seen Rachel?"

"How can you not know the whereabouts of your own slave?" Judy asked with a chuckle. Quinn ignored her mother and stared at Abbie until an answer came.

"Last time I saw her, she had been at the kitchen house, miss," said Abbie. "Would you like me to go fetch her?"

"That won't be necessary," Quinn answered. "I'll go there myself," she said. Judy gasped. Quinn hid a smile. Her mother would never set her foot in a slave's house, and hated when Quinn did so. It felt liberating to be able to go against her so firmly without the fear of being punished. Growing up had its perks.

"Excuse me," Quinn said as she walked in. Dorea and Lou Lee stood up at once, and Quinn couldn't help to notice how blotched the younger's slave face was. She almost asked what had happened, but remembered it wasn't her place to do so. She shouldn't pry on the slave's life. "Have any of you seen Rachel?"

"She left early this morning to go after you, Miss Quinn," said Dorea. Quinn frowned deeper and felt something twisting in her stomach.

She knew in her heart that something wasn't right.

And all her fears were confirmed the moment she gave up looking and went to her room, only to find Rachel sitting on her dressing room's floor with blood splattered all around her.

"Oh my God!" Quinn exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth as the books she was carrying flung to the floor. "What happened to you?" Quinn asked in a murmur. Rachel had her eyes closed, and shook her head. Quinn could see the purplish bruises forming around each one of Rachel's eyes. A slit on her swollen lip, dripping blood. Her always so perfectly tight hair pulled in all directions. A rip on the sleeve of her gown that revealed a nasty cut. Quinn felt like throwing up. Her legs failed her, and she fell onto her knees by Rachel's side. "Tell me," she whispered.

"It's okay," Rachel murmured, trying to smile but closing her lips with an expression of pain that broke Quinn's heart. "I'll be fine."

"Rachel, you tell me what happened to you right now!" Quinn said, more forceful than she ever intended to. She didn't want to take advantage of her power to force Rachel to tell, but she had to know.

"A couple slaves found out that I was the one who told you about the uprising," she said under her breath. Quinn drew in a sharp breath and anger flooded her. "But it's fine, Quinn. Everyone is safe now, and I'll be better in just a couple days, I promise you. What matters is that the farm is safe!"

"What?" Quinn scoffed. "Rachel, nothing is fine! Look at you! Look at what they did to you!"

"They had their reasons, Quinn," Rachel said with a shrug and Quinn growled. She couldn't believe the same Rachel that used to be so defiant towards her could accept what happened to her so easily. It killed her inside to think Rachel had given up.

"There are no reasons, Rachel!" she exclaimed. She wanted to touch Rachel, shake her back to the senses. But she couldn't even come closer. She felt like mere proximity could hurt Rachel further. "I'm gonna kill them. Tell me who was it."

"Quinn, no!" Rachel shook her head, her eyes welling up. "Please, don't do anything! It will only make things worse!"

"Rachel, if you don't tell me I'm gonna find out on my own. I'm gonna kill them," she said, with a coldness in her voice that made herself shiver. Of course she wouldn't kill them with her bare hands. At that moment, she didn't even have the courage to walk down the quarters. If they had done all of that to Rachel, only God knew what they could do to her. But Malcolm had to obey her, too. She only needed to order him.

"Quinn, you don't have to do that," Rachel tried to argue, but Quinn wouldn't let her. Nothing change Quinn's mind once she had made a decision.

"Yes, I do!" she snapped, and Rachel flinched. She regretted instantly. She didn't want to scare Rachel, she only wanted to protect her. "They can't touch you, Rachel! They're slaves, and they can't lay a finger on you! I need to put them in their place!"

"I'm a slave too, Quinn," Rachel murmured with a sad smile.

"You know what I mean, Rachel," Quinn shook her head and lowered her voice. Rachel's statement hit her hard. It's not like she had forgotten it, but it always hurt to be reminded of their different conditions. "I love you, and I take what you say in consideration. I swear I do. I always did, even before I could acknowledge it. But this is different."

"Nothing is different," Rachel replied. "Just because I'm serving in the main house instead of working down there with them, it doesn't mean I'm better than them. I was letting myself go too far and I was forgetting who _I_ really am. _They_ put in my place."

"Your place is right here with me," Quinn replied, getting up and fixing her dress. "And their place is under this ground. Don't move, I'll be back to help you. But I'm gonna fix this first."

And she left, ignoring Rachel's plea behind the closed door.

* * *

"Quinn Fabray," her mother said with a smug smile, stopping by the front door just when Quinn walked back from the yard with a bucket of water. "I have no idea what you have done this time, but I have never seen your father angry like this. I guess he finally found out the kind of daughter he has. If I were you, I wouldn't keep him waiting."

Quinn dropped the bucket where she was - it wasn't a coincidence that so much water spilled on her mother's feet. Part of her wanted to believe that her mother was exaggerating, but the second she stepped inside the house she could hear her father yelling at Malcolm and knew he had heard of what she had done. Quinn knocked softly on the door, bracing herself before gathering the courage to come in.

"Oh well, look who's decided to join us!" Russell said with a mocking chuckle. His face burned bright red, and Quinn licked her lips without saying a word. On the chair in front of her father's table, sat Malcolm, shivering. "Will you please enlighten us on why you thought it was fitting to kill three of my slaves?"

"They beat up Rachel," she whispered, not brave enough to take the few steps that were required so that she could sit on the next vacant chair.

"And that's how we deal with infighting now? We just kill them?" Russell asked, again with that mean chuckle that made Quinn's spine freeze. "What am I supposed to do now, Quinn? We are already in one of our worst seasons ever, and now I don't have slaves enough to work on the plantation. Oh, and you want to know what else? We also don't have money to buy new ones, because there are sacks and sacks of spoiled sugar in the storage house that I can't sell!"

"Father," Quinn said with a deep breath. She rarely stood up for herself, but this felt different. She had to so. For Rachel. "Remember how you thanked me this morning for saving this farm when I told you about their plans? I wouldn't have been able to tell you anything if Rachel hadn't told me first. And they beat her for _that_! It isn't fair!"

"Quinn, I didn't ask you what happened! What is done, is done. I don't want reasons, I asked you how we're gonna fix the consequences that your unthought actions brought us!" His voice had never been that loud. His face had never been that red. He started coughing and Quinn wanted to come closer and see if he needed help - but was too afraid to move. He sat down, coughing and coughing until air came back to his lungs and he took a deep breath. "I know you haven't realized Quinn, because as always, you only care about your own problems. But I haven't been well for a while. I am ill, and this farm will go to ruins if the moment I'm away you take decisions like this one."

"Well, what do you have?" She asked, suddenly filled with concern. It didn't even bother her to be called selfish. She had been many times before. She was only worried, because to be honest, she had realized her father hadn't been at his best, but she didn't think it was anything serious. Her father groaned, as if she had asked the all too wrong question.

"No one knows yet, but that's not the matter right now. I have money to buy slaves to replace the ones I have sold, but I don't have money to replace the ones you so easily ordered killed. Three is a lot, Quinn. It's harvesting time. I didn't wanna do this, but I don't see any other options."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, finally sitting down, as if she knew she had to be seated to listen to what he was going to say next.

"I'm bringing Rachel to work down the quarters until harvesting is done," he said. Malcolm nodded, and Quinn knew they had already discussed the matter. She got lightheaded, and gripped tightly on the chair's arms.

"You can't do that," said Quinn, with a nervous giggle. "She's _my_ slave!"

"Well, do you have a better plan?" He asked. "I'm all ears," he said. She damned herself for not being able to think fast enough and to come up with a better solution. She needed to think of something that would make him change his mind, instead of just making her look like a spoiled five years old child. "You have killed three of mine, I would say that's only fair I take one of yours. What would you say, Malcolm?" Russell asked.

"I- We really need the help down the quarters, Miss Quinn," he said nervously, fidgeting with his hands. It didn't match the personality of the man Quinn used to see working, and it impressed her that everyone could be so afraid of her father while still think so well of him.

"Father, please!" she said, getting up and walking towards him. Her only hope would be convincing him by making him pity her, but he stopped her before she could even start, raising his hand to forbid her from coming closer. She would never admit how much the gesture hurt her.

"It's already decided, Quinn. It's past the time you learn that all your actions have consequences and that you may not always like them, but they will still happen. Perhaps that will teach you how to think ahead before making decisions," he said, his voice much calmer. She didn't know what scared her further, having him calm like that or angry like before. "You may leave now," he said.

And she had no other choice but obeying.


	21. Chapter 21

**TW: Sexual Harassment**

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

Hearing a knock, Quinn opened her bedroom's door acting like nothing had happened, in the vain hope that her father would have calmed down, forgotten their fight and put the whole matter aside. One look at her father's face and she knew that wouldn't be happening any time soon.

"I guess you know why I'm here," he said firmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Good morning to you too," she whispered under her breath, walking into the bedroom with a stomp of her feet. She had spent most of the night awake trying to find a way to get Rachel out of it, but she just couldn't. Slaves were expensive and there was no way she could come up with the money to pay for another one in such a short notice. "Father, are you really going on with this? What do you expect me to do without Rachel? I can not perform housework like a common wench!"

"That is up for you to decide, Quinn. You have lived for fifteen years sharing Dorea with your mother, I'm sure that can be arranged again," he said. Almost as if he didn't know how her relationship with her mother was.

"Let her at least finish getting me dressed. She will be down soon," Quinn said with a sigh, giving him her biggest pleading eyes. It wasn't enough. He was irreducible. It made her shiver to think there could be a hidden agenda on why he wanted Rachel down the quarters. He nodded with a frown and closed the door.

Quinn pouted and looked at Rachel who peeked her head out of the dressing room's door. Rachel shook her head and waved her hand - as if that hadn't fazed her at all - and walked over to Quinn, grabbing the ribbons on her back to fix them. Quinn wanted to say something. Apologize maybe. Rachel had been right when asking for Quinn to not retaliate, and she knew Rachel knew it. Quinn admired her for taking the punishment herself and not throwing it on Quinn's face. The guilty that grew on her chest was almost unbearable.

"Can I ask you something?" Rachel said in a whisper, fixing Quinn's hair behind her ear. Quinn let out a shaky breath. She didn't know how she would be without those tiny moments every morning.

"Of course, dear," Quinn answered. She wasn't in the place to deny Rachel anything.

"Do you know Lou Lee? Dorea's daughter?" Rachel asked. Quinn nodded, furrowing her eyebrows. "She's pregnant and your father has sold her baby's father because he had been involved in the uprising." Quinn's eyes shot up in surprise, but Rachel didn't give her time to think any further. "She wasn't, though. She was the one who told me, she wanted to stop it. But now she's all alone…" Rachel trailed off.

"What is on your mind?" Quinn asked with a small frown. It was only logical that Rachel would want to help her friend, but Quinn didn't see any way how. If she had money to buy any slaves, she would have bought one to replace Rachel. She couldn't simply buy Lou Lee's boyfriend back. "I'm not exactly in a good position to ask my father to buy him back," she said with a sigh.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant!" Rachel shook her head. "What I was thinking is that perhaps you could make arrangements for her to tend and care for you while I'm away. I think it would be good for her, to change the airs from the kitchen house."

"I guess I can try to make that happen," said Quinn with a nod. No one really watched the slaves from the kitchen house. They were obedient and rarely gave Quinn's father any trouble. Quinn was almost sure she could get Lou Lee to work for her without anyone even noticing it. "You're very sweet, for doing that for her. I hope she can see what a good friend she has in you."

"She can, yes. She's an amazing friend to me too." Rachel nodded firmly, and pinned the last strand of Quinn's hair. Quinn's heart tightened up knowing it was time, especially when Rachel's face showed her she wasn't exactly thrilled about it either, regardless of how strong she tried to appear. "I'll see you when the sun goes down?" Rachel asked unsure.

"Of course," Quinn answered with a nod, grabbing Rachel's hand and dropping a kiss on the back of her palm. "I'll be waiting for you. Be careful there, okay?" Rachel nodded, and walked towards the door. Before she could leave, Quinn called her again and she looked back from over her shoulder. "I'll miss you," Quinn said.

Rachel smiled sadly and nodded. She didn't answer before leaving. She never voiced her feelings, and yet, she didn't have to say one single word for Quinn to see the fear in her eyes. And it terrified her to see Rachel, who had lately been her rock, to be so shaken.

* * *

The air was tepid down the quarters. It smelled of sweat and sugar and pain. Rachel wrapped her arms around herself and stood quietly as she waited for her assignment. The smell and the hot sun over her head were nothing compared to the filthy glances of men she had never seen before, but that still felt entitled to devour her body with their eyes. _The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want._ She prayed quietly. The day would be over soon.

"You," Malcolm said, pointing at her direction. She lifted her head, and he quirked an eyebrow. She hadn't eaten anything, but her stomach twisted as if she was about to puke. "I've heard a lot about you. Let's see what that's all about. You go feed the mill."

"What a fine little women," someone said as Rachel walked towards her working spot. She ignored the comments around her and tried to focus on the work she had to get done. The sooner it was over, the sooner she would be gone from there. She had no idea how to operate the mill, but she had even less courage to ask how to do so. She would have to learn it on her own. Luckily, she had always been a fast learner.

"Isn't she?" Malcolm said, taking one step towards her. She swallowed thickly, but didn't say anything. She stood tall, hoping it would be enough to keep him away. "Looks even better with all that purple around her eyes. Can you believe I've heard rumors she was a difficult one? Aggressive, even. It sure doesn't look so."

"Oh, they all like to resist a little at first," said another man with a scoff. "It's just to make it more fun when we catch them."

Rachel gagged. She sought shelter in the eyes of the other women who worked near her, but they either didn't hear them, didn't mind what they said, or didn't like Rachel. She could bet all her money on the latter. She had never come down the quarters, but she had always heard about how jealous the slaves were of the treatment the slaves in the main house had. It sure wasn't fair. But it wasn't Rachel's fault either. _He maketh me to lie down in green pastures_. She wasn't sure if God ever heard slaves. She sure didn't feel like he had ever heard her.

It didn't stop her from trying.

"Have you seen her legs? They sure look strong for someone who just sits in the main house doing nothing all day." Rachel couldn't even know where the voice had come from. She didn't wanna look up and put a face on the disgusting commentary. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to wipe her mind clean.

A sharp leaf cut her hand. It was the first of the many injuries that would come. Her eyes welled up, but she didn't say a thing. She would do anything to fly under the radar. To avoid getting any attention to herself. To make sure the harassment was restrict to the mean words that she tried to ignore. _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me._

She didn't think praying would save her. But it was all she could do.

* * *

They had been sitting at the library, side by side, for hours. George arrived while Quinn had been trying to distract herself from Rachel's absence with a book. Quinn didn't say a word. He didn't either. A lot of time had passed since she got bored by her book, but she didn't want to be the first one to get out and leave the library all for him. The silence killed her, but she would never be the one to break it.

"Can we talk?" George said with a deep sigh, after what seemed like forever. Quinn shrugged. She wouldn't give him the taste of knowing how much that whole situation bothered her. "Quinn, you can't be angry at me forever," he said. _Watch me_ , she wanted to reply. She had to remind herself she was a grown up now and she had to act like one if she wanted to earn anyone's respect in that house.

"I'm not angry at you anymore," she said, getting him to flash her one of his side smiles that made girls swoon all over the island. She was quick to take it back down from his face. "I simply don't see a point on investing in a relationship that you chose to destroy by moving away again. There's no reason for me to try to get close to you, since in just a matter of weeks you won't be close at all anymore."

"I don't know why you are doing this," he said, shaking his head with a disappointed look that made Quinn want to punch him. "You do know I could help you, right?" She knit her eyebrows together skeptically and he explained. "I could talk to father on your behalf. He is mad at you, but he would listen to me. I could get Rachel out of there, if you wanted me to."

"If you would only be talking to him to try to get me back, then you're not half the man I thought you were. You're always talking about how slaves are humans and should be treated like so, but I hardly see you complaining anymore. I guess you have just grown used to how convenient it is to have them around," said Quinn, with a small victorious smile.

"That's not fair, Quinn. You know I try, but I can't win alone. I don't plan on having slaves at my own house," he said, only reminding Quinn again why she was mad at the first place. His home was there, with her. Not anywhere else. "But I can not change how father runs this farm. You, on the other hand, can." She didn't answer him. Somehow, he thought that was motivation enough to keep talking. "You should understand my reasons. And you should give Arabella a chance. She could be the sister you never had. Instead of losing me, you would be winning one more person on your side."

"I have a sister," Quinn sneered. Perhaps she got it from her mother - the whole denial about Frannie's death thing.

"Quinn, you didn't even meet Frannie." He chuckled. It was repugnant.

"I didn't have to meet her to feel her constant presence in this house, George. And you might find it funny, but she was more present in my life than you ever was while in England. Mother never let me forgot about her, and about how I wasn't her. If this is anything close to what having a sister feels like, I would really rather die without one."

"You're too stubborn. I'm done. I'm not gonna try anymore, Quinn," he said with another sigh, and she frowned in confusion. "I've tried to reach out for you ever since I came back and it was very hard to finally get an opening from you. I'm sad that I lost it, but I'm not gonna run away from my happiness just to make sure all your wishes are granted. I've apologized, and I've tried to show you all the bright sides this change can bring us, but you never let go of what you think. I just want you to know that regardless of what you may think, I'm still here for you. And that if you ever need, you can just come to me - about anything. I'll always be here for you. But you're gonna have to be the one reaching out, from now on."

He left the library. In theory, she would finally have a quiet moment in peace to finish her book. But her mind wouldn't stop spinning around the words he had said, and how truthful they felt, even if Quinn tried not to believe them.

* * *

"What is she doing here?" Russell asked, bumping into Rachel following Quinn through one of their hallways. "Quinn, you know she should be in the quarters! Harvesting isn't over yet!" He complained with an angry sneer.

Quinn had managed to hide Rachel for a couple weeks. The girl would work all day, but come up to the main house just before bed time. Quinn never asked her to do anything for her - she knew Rachel would be tired for even the easiest tasks. She just wanted to ensure Rachel would get a good night of sleep, on the comfiest of beds instead of sleeping on the thin mattress down the quarters. But more than anything, it filled Quinn's heart with relief to see Rachel after every working day and know she was well - or as well as she could be. Quinn cared for Rachel's ruined hands and massaged her back until she fell asleep, and it helped to get at least a little of her guilt out of her back.

It had been working fine, until her father came back earlier from a trip and ran into them on the hallway.

"She can't sleep there, father, it isn't safe!" Quinn argued.

"It isn't practical for her to sleep up in here, Quinn. She will have to get up much earlier and climb the whole hill back every night. Why don't you just give her a break?" He placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder. Quinn froze. She wanted to put herself between the two of them. To get his hand out of Rachel. To hide Rachel behind her and not let anyone in the world see her.

"She doesn't mind," Quinn replied with a tight jaw. Her father sighed, not convinced at all. "She's small father, she can't be there all alone."

"Child, she is a woman already!" He said with a chuckle that made Quinn's spine shake. As if he knew how much of a woman she was.

"She's my age," Quinn reminded him, in an attempt of making him feel guilty or even to just make him see how wrong it all was.

"Will that make you complain less, Quinn?" He asked with a sigh. Quinn licked her lips and nodded firmly. "Alright then," he tapped Rachel's shoulder before getting his hand off. Quinn felt like she could finally breathe again. "As long as she is there on time, I guess that's fine. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

Everything changed when their door was closed. Quinn was less irritated and Rachel less tense. The tiredness of the hard work showed in her every expression, but Quinn could see her relaxing with every single touch of their hands. Instead of being dressed and braided, Quinn was the one to help Rachel into her night gown. She was the one to let Rachel's hair out of the tight bun, and to caress her scalp with her fingertips. Rachel closed her eyes as they engaged in the small talk that was all their relationship boiled down to, lately.

"Has Lou Lee been treating you well?" Rachel asked as Quinn pulled the covers of the bed. A bed that had never felt so big as the night Quinn tried to sleep there alone while Rachel slept down the quarters.

"Yes," Quinn said with a nod. "She has been very useful and she can be very handy."

"I'm glad," Rachel replied with a smile. Quinn could almost swear she saw a hint of sadness there somewhere, but tried to make it up before it could develop any further.

"She's not you, though," Quinn whispered, dropping a kiss just under Rachel's ear. Rachel flinched. Or shivered. Quinn couldn't quite tell.

"I'll be back soon. The season is almost over," Rachel whispered, closing her eyes. Quinn left another kiss on her neck, just a little lower. "I hope you can find a new position for her when I'm back. So that she can stay up here in the house."

"I'm sure we can think of something," Quinn replied, without really paying attention to what she was saying. Rachel tasted saltier than usual. Perhaps it was the taste of longing. She had never missed anything more in her life. As one hand held Rachel's jaw in place, Quinn nibbled on the skin just above Rachel's breast. Rachel caught her breath and Quinn smiled. But Rachel grabbed her arm and not with the usual strength. Rachel whispered her name, but it sounded all too different. "Yes?" Quinn replied, again without really paying attention.

"No, Quinn," Rachel said, shutting her eyes tightly as if she was in pain. "I'm really tired."

It was the first time Rachel had ever said no to her. Quinn wanted to feel happy. She wanted to feel reassured on knowing that Rachel felt like she could say no to her. She wanted to be relieved that she would never again have to wonder if all that Rachel did was because she thought she was being ordered. She wanted to believe that Rachel was just tired. But she couldn't.

Instead, all she could think of was all the men and women that surrounded Rachel everyday down the quarters. Of how they were slaves like her, and how she could feel like she fit in there, with them. Better than with Quinn. Of how she could have met someone there that understood her better. That was funnier. That was prettier.

She nodded. Rachel smiled in gratefulness and hugged Quinn tighter against her chest. Rachel didn't take a minute to fall asleep. Quinn took forever. Rachel's heart beat strong and steadily. Quinn was afraid there was nothing but broken pieces in her chest.

She couldn't lose Rachel.

* * *

Time alone didn't do Quinn no good. She could take advantage of Rachel's absence to study, or read, or even paint - which she hadn't in a long time. But instead, all she could do was sit by her window and try to get a glimpse of what happened down the quarters. It was too far, and she couldn't even see Rachel, but still. She didn't leave her place. And while she was at it, her mind wouldn't stop wondering either.

A few days had passed and Rachel still wouldn't let Quinn touch her. Not even on Sundays, when the slaves down the quarters had a day off and Rachel didn't have the _tired_ excuse. And with each day, Quinn grew more and more nervous that Rachel had traded her for a slave from down there. She felt like her affliction wouldn't end until she found out who it was, but she would never be brave enough to confront Rachel about it.

So she decided to see it with her own eyes instead.

As the sun started to set, Quinn marched her way down the hill and into the quarters. One by one, she saw slaves coming back from the plantation, with the most tiresome look on their faces. Rachel wasn't among them. She knew Rachel had been working on the mill and she did her best to ignore the strong smell of the place. She had traced her plan. She would simply tell Rachel she had come to pick her up and surprise her. Rachel wouldn't even question it. It was the perfect plan - unless she caught Rachel with someone else. Then Quinn just would never talk to her again.

"It's even better when she's all sweaty like that," she heard someone saying. She cringed at how weird that sound, but her heart stalled when she heard a low whimper. A low whimper that she knew all too well.

"She's looking better now because she's putting all those muscles to work," another voice said.

Quinn peeked her head behind a wooden wall and had to lean against it to ensure she wouldn't fall onto the ground when she saw it. Three black men and Malcolm, the overseer, surrounded Rachel way closer than she was comfortable with. Quinn's mouth tasted sour. One of them had his hand up Rachel's thigh, and another one caressed her hair. Rachel had her eyes shut tight, but didn't move at all.

It was nothing like her. Quinn wondered if she had been enjoying it, thus why she hadn't moved. But she cried out again and Quinn understood it all. Of course Rachel didn't like it. She didn't like it, but she knew better than to move. One of the men started lifting Rachel's skirt and Quinn's heart fell to her feet. If only she had a gun there, she would have killed all of them right then, regardless of the consequences that could have brought her.

"Get off of her!" Quinn yelled. The perks of being the daughter of the master - they moved right away. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" She had never cursed out loud in front of people. The surprise showed on their face. The men slaves moved further away and looked around trying to find a way to escape. Malcolm, on the other hand, didn't look fazed at all.

"Calm down, little miss," he said, bringing a hay straw to his mouth. "We're just having a little fun."

"Well, go have fun with your own people!" she yelled, her face boiling up in anger. Rachel's eyes shot open, as if just then she had realized that the voice she heard was coming from Quinn. She smiled, and it broke Quinn further to realize that even though she felt like she should be grossed out, she still felt like Rachel's smile could rock her whole world. "She's my slave and if I ever see anyone touching, or just talking to her like you had, I will kill you all!" Malcolm giggled. Quinn's body trembled in anger. "I'm serious! You can have whoever you want, but you don't touch _my_ slave!"

"We all know why you're saying that, miss Quinn," he said, with a mocking tone that made Quinn want to rip his jugular apart. "And you're sure going to hell because of that!"

Quinn froze. He was bluffing. He had to be. There was no way he could know. Still, she thought arguing further would just make him more sure of his suspicious - so she painted her most disgusted face and shook her head, as if the thought of having Rachel had never crossed her head before. She didn't have the courage to look at Rachel afterwards, afraid of what she could see. She hoped Rachel would understand why she had just done what she had done.

"Let's go, Rachel," Quinn said, waiting for Rachel to move before she turned around. She wouldn't take her eyes off of Rachel if her life depended on it. "And just so you know, my father will know about this." She completed, in an attempt of scaring Malcolm - if she hadn't already.

"Oh, as if he had never done her either," Malcolm replied, and Quinn felt bile rising up.


	22. Chapter 22

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

Quinn entered the drawing room to find her father and brother playing a game of chess. It was something they always did before dinner and they usually weren't very keen on being interrupted, but Quinn couldn't wait.

"Father!" she shouted out. Her father opened his arms to welcome her with a hug the second he saw the distress on her face, but Quinn couldn't get that close to him. She wanted to believe Rachel's words before anyone else's and Rachel had promised her to say something with Quinn's father was after her again. But still, she was unsettled by the way Malcolm had implied Russell wouldn't care about what they had been doing to Rachel. "You will never believe what I just saw!"

"What is it, my dear?" He asked, voice filled with concern. George frowned too, but Quinn turned her back to him. If he hadn't helped till then, there wasn't anything he could now.

"Malcolm and some other slaves were abusing Rachel down the quarters!" she said, with a voice lower than usual. It hurt more than she had expected to say those words out loud.

"Wait a minute, have you gone to the quarters unaccompanied?" Russell asked, and Quinn frowned. Perhaps Malcolm wasn't so wrong, after all.

"Did you just listen to what I just said? Did I say it out loud?" She asked with a scoff, not believing he had dismissed her so casually when it came to such a heavy subject.

"Quinn, I have told you several times! You are not to go down there on your own! It is dangerous!"

"Well, nothing happened to me, alright? Can you, please, pretend you care about what I just told you?"

"What do you want me to say, dear?" He chuckled, pulling her to sit on his leg, just as he did when she was a child. She tensed up. Russell's chuckling turned to a heavy cough, as it always did lately. "Rachel is a woman now, is natural that she will grow interested in men among her own. I can't stop slaves from having relationships between themselves."

"Father, she _wasn't_ interested! She was being abused!" Quinn cried out and for once looked over to George. She wished she hadn't. The look on his face said it all. "Did you know about this too? Why do I feel like I'm the last one to know about all of this?"

"Calm down, child. This isn't the end of the world. Let her have a little fun, for God's sake," Russell chuckled again and Quinn leaped out of his lap. It felt way too disgusting to be there. He coughed again and Quinn wondered if all that coughing perhaps weren't a punishment from God for the words that left his mouth.

"I can't believe you, George," she said, narrowing her eyes in his direction. He looked down, pleading guilty, but she would never forgive him. "After all you told me when we last talked. I'm sick tired of all this duality. Whenever I think we will be alright, you go and completely ruin it."

"I'm sorry, Quinn, I can-" he said, trying to explain himself. But Quinn wouldn't let him.

"No, George. I don't wanna hear anything else from you. I just can't wait until you're out of this house and I never have to look at your face again," she snapped.

"Come on, Quinn, now don't be like that. We have talked about that attitude. George hasn't done anything," Russell tried to intervene, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, and walked towards the door. She could see pain in her father's face, but couldn't be sure if it was due to their fight or from all the coughing.

"That's the problem, father. He never does anything. He talks a lot about how we should do things, but when it comes to putting his words into actions he just never does," she said with a sarcastic chuckle, before turning to George. "I hope you don't expect me at your wedding, _brother_."

* * *

When Quinn walked into the room and Rachel smiled towards her, she tried to smile back. But she couldn't. Her eyes welled up, and she felt guilty. She was not the one who should be crying. She should be consoling Rachel - but Rachel didn't seem faltered at all.

"How can you smile?" Quinn asked, sitting on her bed against the bed post, in front of Rachel. Rachel shrugged, and Quinn's mouth hang slightly open in shock. "Why are you acting like this is not a big deal?"

"Because it isn't," Rachel answered with another shrug. Quinn frowned. Perhaps that's how Rachel coped. Perhaps she ignored it and pretended it never happened. But Quinn couldn't. It would eat her up inside if they didn't talk about it.

"It is, Rachel! It's a huge deal! That wasn't right!" Quinn argued, trying to get an reaction from Rachel. Rachel sighed, finally dropping her smile, and Quinn swallowed dryly.

"A lot of things aren't right in slavery, Quinn, but that doesn't stop them from happening," she said under her breath, staring down at the sheets.

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked, concerned there was more Rachel wasn't telling her. She wouldn't throw it in Rachel's face, but she couldn't help feeling hurt that Rachel had again, not told her what was happening.

"I mean, you haven't seen anything, Quinn," she shrugged once more. Quinn scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulder, just to prevent her from keep shrugging again. She couldn't make Rachel react appropriately, but she could stop Rachel from being so nonchalantly about it. "It's not like it's been the first time," she whispered, and Quinn stiffened.

"What have they done?" Quinn asked, regretting it immediately. She didn't want an answer for that. She felt better not knowing, but she needed to know how extensively she would punish whoever touched Rachel.

"What haven't they done?" Rachel answered with a hurt chuckle that broke Quinn in pieces. She held Rachel tighter, but it was almost as if Rachel wasn't there. She didn't respond at all.

"Rachel, stop giving me evasive answers," she cried out. Rachel sighed again. "I'm gonna punish them, Rach. I promise you. They will pay for that."

"You don't need the details, Quinn. They did a lot, but they weren't the first and they won't be the last. And please, don't punish them. You saw what happened last time you tried to pick my fights," Rachel whispered.

"Rachel, you have never been like this," Quinn said, swallowing thick. It hurt her to see Rachel giving up like that. She had always heard black people were naturally predisposed to be submissive, but she always thought Rachel was different. "You always fought back, why are you being like this?"

"I don't have a choice, Quinn. I'm a slave. I have nothing. Not even my body is mine. This is how it has always been, and it's way worse if I try to do something," Rachel almost growled. Quinn could see her coming back to her senses. Getting angry at her fate. It was reassuring to see some life in her, but Quinn wasn't sure it was for the best.

"Well, what can I do, then? If you won't let me punish them, there must be something else I can do." Quinn said. "I don't want anyone touching you," she whispered. No one could hear behind their walls, but Quinn still whispered. It was their secret, after all.

"You could free me," Rachel said firmly and hit Quinn way too hard. It wasn't like anything she expected. She felt her body tensing up and she knew Rachel could feel too.

In a question of seconds, a billion thoughts crossed Quinn's mind. The possibility that Rachel had fooled her all along. That this had been her plan all along, and that the second she was free she would run away. As if she had sensed what Quinn imagined, Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and brought to her face, connecting their eyes. Quinn knew those eyes didn't lie to her. Rachel wouldn't leave her. She could give Rachel her freedom.

But she couldn't. Not after the way Malcolm had talked to her earlier. Not when she knew people were suspicious about the two of them. It would only confirm their doubts. It would be their end. She always thought of being her and Rachel against the world, but in reality she wasn't sure they could make it in the _real_ world, outside of the farm. It was one thing to hide their relationship in a farm where they had everything, but it was a whole other to be alone in a city where everyone believed you were the spawn of the devil.

"I can't," she said almost inaudible. Rachel flinched away from her, and she felt a thousand needles picking her on the place Rachel's skin had been.

"You keep saying you want me to be only yours," Rachel whispered with a sad smile. "You keep saying you love me," she went on, with a small crackle on her voice. "Yet, you won't give me the one thing that could change my life for the better. The one thing that only you can give me, and that I've wanted my whole life. If you loved me, Quinn, you would give me my freedom."

"What is even freedom?" Quinn chuckled nervously. "Do you think I'm free? Because I'm not. I'm trapped in this farm too, Rachel. I'm trapped in here forced to kill people so that rich english men will be able to enjoy their sweet tea!"

"Are you really trying to compare-" Rachel started with a gasp, but couldn't go on. She shook her head. "Those are the moments I remember who you truly are. I always think you have changed, but when you say things like that you go back to being nothing more than the little girl who was ruthless enough to count the whips as my mother died."

If Quinn had taken a bullet to her heart it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much. She thought they were over that. She had apologized. She was only a child, she didn't know what she had been doing. She thought Rachel had understood. She knew it wouldn't be easy to forget something like that, but she had tried hard every day to make Rachel see she wasn't that child anymore.

"Alright," Quinn whispered, turning with her back to Rachel and climbing under the covers. She wouldn't let Rachel know how much it hurt her. She wouldn't let Rachel see her tears. She wouldn't let Rachel throw back so mercilessly all the love she had given her. "If that's what you think, I think our conversation is over."

She felt Rachel shifting around for a while, before giving up and getting out of the bed and into the dressing room. All she could do was hope her bedsheets were dry in the morning so that Rachel wouldn't find out how she sobbed herself to sleep.

* * *

"The cropover party is tonight. You're allowed to come if you want to," Quinn said. It was the first words she said to Rachel in two days.

"I won't," Rachel answered. It was the first words she heard from Rachel in two days. Her legs wobbled.

It was only two days, but it felt like years. Quinn had thought she would have no worst days than the ones she had spent alone while Rachel worked down the quarters. She was rapidly stood corrected. It was far worse to have Rachel right by her side, but not talking to her. Not touching her aside from the mandatory dressing and hair braiding. Not sharing a bed with her. Right there, but not quite.

Quinn didn't remember ever having the farm in such a tense state. The uprising plans, the selling of the slaves who had planned it, the killing of the slaves had beaten Rachel and the whipping on the ones that had touched her - because yes, Quinn could be hurt, but she still wouldn't let it pass. It all brought an amount of tension between the slaves and the main house that Quinn couldn't recall ever feeling before.

To make it all worse, her father had fallen even more ill. Fevers started to break periodically and on that fateful day he didn't have the strength to get up and host the so famous cropover party they had every year. With that, her mother wouldn't be coming either. She claimed she had to be by her husband's side, but Quinn knew better. She knew her mother didn't like mixing up with slaves. Meanwhile, George was too caught up on his wedding plans and wouldn't be able to be back from Basseterre in time.

As if it wasn't enough, added in the fact that with the worse crop in more than twenty years of plantation, they didn't have money enough offer the so famous banquet of every year. So there she was. Quinn, all alone, dealing with hundreds of slaves that were already angry at her family and would only get more nervous when they found out the food wouldn't be as abundant as always.

She didn't dare taking one glass of water. She wouldn't take anything from the little they had. She felt guilty enough knowing although her father claimed to not have money for the party, he still kept on helping George with the wedding - where food wouldn't be a problem, she was just sure.

Alone, she sat on a wooden bench and watched as few slaves danced beside the fire. The party was a failure, compared to all the previous years, and Quinn wondered it was a sign of what her administration would bring to the farm. This had never happened before she started getting involved in those matters. Maybe she didn't have what it took. Maybe it wasn't too late to take on the offers to flee to America and continue her studies and never come back. But the lights from her window flickered, and a shadow appeared to remind her that she knew she could never leave.

"May I sit in here, miss Quinn?" Lou Lee asked. Quinn was caught in surprise, but nodded, scooting to the near end. "How do you like the food, miss Quinn? My mother helped Abbie to prepare it all," she said proudly.

"Everything is delicious," Quinn lied. She hadn't tried anything. "Your mother is very talented in the kitchen. So is Abbigail. We're very thankful for their work." Lou Lee looked shocked, and her cheeks blushed. Quinn realized she had never done this before. Thanking a slave for their work. She always just thought it was what they were made to do. Seeing Lou Lee's reaction made her think that perhaps she could start doing it more. "You, too, Lou Lee. You were very helpful while Rachel was gone. Thank you for helping me," she said. She didn't know why, but she felt much lighter after the words slipped out of her mouth.

"What am I to do now, miss?" Lou Lee asked shyly. Quinn frowned in confusion, and she went on. "I mean, now that Rachel is back. Should I go back to the kitchen house?" Quinn stopped to think for a second.

"I'm not sure yet, Lou Lee. Stay on stand by for a while. Enjoy the life growing inside of you. I'm not sure how things will work out with Rachel and I might need you back. So for now you can just rest for a little while," she said with a smile. Lou Lee's eyes popped out of her face. Quinn realized the Lou Lee didn't know that Quinn knew she was pregnant, but she seemed more than pleased with Quinn's answer.

"Thank you so much, miss Quinn," she wailed. "You're the kindest, miss! I will run to tell my mother, if you excuse me?" she asked apprehensively.

Quinn dismissed her with a wave of hand and a smile, and went back on her solitude, trying to find the rare smiles that appeared between the angry faces. Trying to believe Lou Lee's words and forget Rachel's. Trying to convince herself she wasn't doing such a bad job after all.

* * *

Quinn opened her bedroom door to find Rachel sitting by the fire, wearing only her stays, and with George sitting by her side and going through his briefcase. Quinn felt her stomach churning.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a deep frown. He ignored her and grabbed all the doctor's tools that were scattered through the floor, shoving them back into his briefcase before turning to face Rachel.

"I'm sure it will all be fine, but tell me if you need anything," he said, getting up and walking past Quinn. "I'll leave you two to have a talk, now."

That had been Quinn's plan all along. She had left the cropover party earlier, because she had had enough. She couldn't be away from Rachel, and she was willing to explain herself, give her all the reasons why she couldn't abide to her wishes, and apologize. Whatever it took to be able to have Rachel again. She sat on the bed and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said first, in a small whisper, looking down. "Our relationship is too.. _different_. I can't tell where are the boundaries, but I think I overstepped them. I'm still learning how to deal with all of this. I didn't think before saying what I said."

"No," Quinn answered and Rachel's head shot up in her direction, startled that Quinn had denied her apologies. So Quinn explained. "I'm the one that should apologize. I love you too much, Rachel. And I'm terrified of losing you. I can't free you now, because it would make it too obvious that I feel something for you. But I give you my word that I will, eventually."

Rachel sighed, but nodded, and walked over to sit on Quinn's lap. To know that their intimacy was still enough for Rachel to do so without it ever feeling weird made Quinn's heart warm again, in a way it hadn't since their fight.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered, dropping a kiss on Quinn's cheek. "But still. I shouldn't have said what I did. You're not just that little girl-"

"It's alright, Rachel, really," Quinn interrupted her. "I understand that you will probably never forget that, but I will still keep on trying-"

"No, Quinn, let me finish!" Rachel said, covering Quinn's lips with her finger. Quinn shut her mouth and smiled shyly. "You're not just that little girl. It's like you have a whole lot of different people inside of you. And even though I'm more fond of some of those than the others," she paused to breath, and connect their eyes. "I love everyone of them. And I love you. And it wasn't fair that I had never said it, even though you did ages ago. I didn't wanna give that to you, because I guess a part of me was still resentful of what you did. But I have to move on. You have grown up a lot, and you have changed. You can still be flawed, but you have made my life so much better. And you have saved me when I needed. And you protect me, always. And you make me feel a lot of things I had never felt. So yes, I love you. Being free or not, that wouldn't change. I would be free, but I would still be by your side. Always."

It was probably the longest she had ever heard Rachel talking and she felt her heart flipping with every sentence. Silence fell upon them, because Quinn couldn't get her mind to formulate anything to say back. So instead, she lunged forward and crashed their lips together. They kissed for what it felt like an eternity, but still not long enough. She had kissed Rachel many and many times before, and felt the love in it every single one of them - but somehow, it was even stronger after she had heard the words. Rachel pulled her by the gown, and they fell down on to the bed. Quinn was well aware of what Rachel wanted and she would never be the one to deny it. But one question wouldn't leave her mind.

"I need to ask you something," Quinn whispered against Rachel's lips. Rachel nodded, and Quinn went on. "You said you feel like your body doesn't belong to you," she said, drawing in a sharp breath to gather the courage to ask. "When I touch you, do you feel the same way you do when they…" She didn't have the guts to finish the sentence, but she knew Rachel would understand. "Is that why you had been avoiding doing it with me?"

"If you have to ask that, you clearly haven't been paying attention enough," Rachel murmured, grabbing Quinn's bottom lip between hers and biting it down. "You have how I reacted while they touched me. Take me now and see it for yourself. If you don't notice the difference, we'll try again."

Quinn did notice it.

But that didn't stop them from trying again, and again, and again.


	23. Chapter 23

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

“Wake up, Quinn,” Rachel sing-sang on Quinn’s ear, brushing her fingertips against her temples. “Come on, it’s already late. ” 

“Mhm?” Quinn asked, cringing and rubbing her eyes. She didn’t know what time was it, but she definitely wasn’t ready to wake up. “Why do you wanna wake up?”

“I need time to get you ready!” she answered, as if it was obvious. Quinn frowned further, and Rachel bulged her eyes out incredulous that Quinn didn’t seem to understand what she meant. “For the wedding, silly!”

“Oh,” Quinn murmured, feeling the sleepiness vanishing away. She hated to disappoint Rachel. “Yeah, I’m not going, Rachel. I’ve told George already.”

“I’m aware, he told me,” she replied, and Quinn scowled. She didn’t know Rachel and George had been speaking behind her back, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it. “There’s no reason for you to punish him, Quinn. He knew it, but he just didn’t tell you cause I didn’t let him. He found me hurting one day and he helped me out. I didn’t want him to tell you because I was afraid of what you were gonna do. George is an amazing person and he loves you very much.” Quinn didn’t say anything, still processing what she had been told. It was nice for George to keep Rachel’s secret, but his loyalty should lie with Quinn, not her. She couldn’t help being hurt, although she knew he wasn’t wrong. “Come on,” Rachel insisted. “I really wanna see you all dressed up and gorgeous.”

“I don’t know, Rachel,” Quinn shook her head with a sigh. 

“Quinn, you don’t know how long this fight between the two of you will last for. It could last forever, but it could end tomorrow - if only you wanted. And this is the only wedding he will ever have. Do you wanna look back, 40 years from now, and realize you have missed it because of a silly fight?” Quinn hated how argumentative Rachel could be. How she could set a point in a way Quinn could hardly argue back. Although for her the fight didn’t seem silly at all.

“But I already told him I’m not going. He won’t be expecting me, it could get awkward. I might not even have a place at the main table,” she said everything she could find at the top of her head, but she knew Rachel had already won. Even if she hadn’t agreed, it was almost impossible for her to deny anything Rachel asked her.

“I’m sure you will have a seat, Quinn. I’m sure he is waiting for you,” Rachel said, but Quinn kept shaking her head. She feared Rachel was just saying the words she wanted to hear. “Alright, so let’s do this. I’ll help you get dressed up and I’ll braid your hair up beautifully and I will paint your face. Then, you try to go out there. If you don’t feel okay, you come back and I’ll be here waiting for you. That way at least I get to see you in this beautiful gown! We can’t let it go to waste!” 

Rachel always made everything sound so simple. So easy. And Quinn decided to give it a try. It was comforting enough to know that even if everything went wrong, she would have Rachel waiting for her to make everything better. 

* * *

Quinn came out of the room and her stomach fluttered. Her house looked like a whole new place, straight out from a fairytale. Tiny white flowers surrounded all the banisters and the usually red carpet on the stairs had been replaced with a white one. How they managed to make it remain white while so many people walked around the house, Quinn would never know.

She felt invisible. No one seemed to notice her among all the workers and guests. She gently pushed her way downstairs and walked out towards the chapel. A sea of guests and faces Quinn had never seen before turned their heads towards the entrance when Quinn appeared, and her stomach fluttered again. 

She had dreamed of getting married since she was a smile child. The pure white, ever so long dress. The veil covering her face. The flowers and the rosary in her hands. Her husband waiting for her in the alter. She felt a tug in her heart, but didn’t let her knees quiver, and walked inside trying to find a spot on the bench among the many strangers.

“Quinn!” Someone squealed. She looked around to find Arabella waving her hand on the window, calling Quinn out. She had only seem the woman once, but she wasn’t exactly difficult to recognize. She had a face one couldn’t forget so easily. Quinn considered ignoring her, or maybe pretending she hadn’t seen her. “Quinn, over here!” she said louder, and Quinn watched as other people started to stare at her. She had no other choice other than giving a small smile and wave of hand. “Can you come here for a second?” Arabella said, and Quinn took a deep sigh before walking out, getting angry faces from everyone as she excused herself out of the bench again.

“Hey,” Quinn said. She had been right. That was awkward. She shouldn’t have come. “You look beautiful,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but apparently, Arabella didn’t feel one ounce of the heaviness Quinn felt in the air, and quickly leaped to wrap her arms around Quinn’s neck. Quinn froze. She wasn’t used to being hugged. Not even Rachel did so very often. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the proximity, specially when it came to someone she had only seen once and was still not sure wether she liked or not.

“ _You_ look beautiful!” Arabella said. “Oh, Quinn, I’m so glad you came!” she squealed again, hugging Quinn tighter. Quinn gave a few gentle taps on her back, as if to say _alright that’s enough_ \- but Arabella didn’t get it. “You have no idea how happy your brother is gonna be. He was so upset you said you wouldn’t come! Don’t ever tell him that I told you this, but-“ she interrupted herself, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He even shed a few tears. You really are important to him.”

“Well, I’m here,” Quinn said with an awkward smile and a shrug. She felt good knowing her brother had been upset by her threat, but she also felt guilty for it. 

“I need to ask you for something,” Arabella said, with a smirk. Quinn gave her a nervous smile and a nod, already bracing herself for whatever it is that could come next. “Would like to come in as one of my bridesmaids?” Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. From everything she imagined, this was not what she expected. Arabella realized it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, but it would be really nice.”

“I won’t match their dresses,” Quinn cringed, looking down to her blue gown in contrast to the other bridesmaids, all in pink. Quinn was never really fond of pink. She was also not very good in coming up with arguments when it came to discussions with tiny brunettes, it seemed.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter! Just imagine how surprised and happy George will be when he sees you in the altar, Quinn! He would die of joy!” said Arabella. Quinn hoped it was true. “Besides,” she said with a sigh, tuning down her tone again. “I know you are not very interested in becoming _friends_ with me and that you haven’t had the best family experiences ever,” she said. Quinn stiffened. It felt awful to know that while Arabella probably knew a lot about her family, she knew nothing about the woman. “But I really wanna get to know you. I really think we could become sisters. From what George has told me, you are the most amazing girl in this island. In the world perhaps! I just really wanna get to know you,” she said.

“We can try, I guess,” Quinn whispered with a shy scowl. She wasn’t feeling comfortable at all with the whole situation and was about to roll around on her heels and run back to Rachel when Arabella shoved a small bouquet of flowers into her hand. She must have taken Quinn’s answer as a yes. “But don’t you think this is a little too fast? We’ve barely got to know each other,” Quinn shrugged again, and Arabella dismissed her with a wave of hand.

“Quinn, did you know we have redecorated the whole mansion, in Basseterre?” she asked. Quinn shook her head. She hadn’t talked to George in a while, but assumed he had been busy with something. He was never home anymore. She tried to think of it as a gradual transition. Perhaps that could make it easier for her to get used to his absence. “We changed all the furnitures, carpets, decorations- everything! I wanted to freshen it up a bit and I wanted George to feel like it was his own home, not his late-grandmother’s. I believe it has worked, he seems quite pleased with it.” Quinn nodded, but frowned again. She didn’t get why Arabella was saying that. It didn’t sound like the time to simply catch up. “The only thing he told me I wasn’t allowed to change was your room. He said you’d do whatever you wanted with it. He even convinced me to get the smaller room as a nursery when a baby eventually comes, because he didn’t want you to lose your room. He really wants you in his life - and so do I.”

“Why do you have to be so nice?” Quinn groaned in a murmur and Arabella giggled, caressing her arm. For the first time, it didn’t feel as awkward. Quinn was starting to believe in her and even like her. “It makes me really hard to hate you for taking my brother away.”

“Well, I’m glad. I don’t wanna come between what you two have, cause I find it beautiful, your relationship. And I really hope you won’t hate me,” she said, with the most genuine smile. Quinn finally let herself smile back, and it wasn’t as fake as the previous ones had been. “Now, what do you say? Shall we get you in line?” she asked. Quinn nodded.

* * *

As the melody started and Quinn walked down the isle among the other bridesmaids, it dawned on her: that was very likely going to be the first and last time she did so. She would never have a wedding like this. She would never have her mother teary eyed on the altar, like she was at the first sight of her son by the door - well, even if she had a wedding, she doubted her mother reaction would be the same. But still. Her whole life she had sought her parents approval in everything she did and she was terrified of disappointing them. 

When George appeared by the chapel’s doors, she put all of that aside and gasped. His clothes weren’t that different from the ones he wore on Christmas every year, but something about the setting and context around it made him look more handsome than ever. He had always been a sight to sore eyes, but Quinn felt the proudest as she watched all the faces swooning in admiration while he fixed his blonde locks before walking down the isle. 

He was about half-way down the isle when their eyes met and he saw Quinn. He faltered. He stopped for a second. His hand rose abruptly, instinctively going to cover his mouth - but he recomposed himself before it happened. He was the groom and had to follow every instruction he had received in the rehearsal. Still, Quinn could read in his eyes everything he felt in that moment. The surprise of seeing her there and the greater joy that furthered the smile on his lips. In that moment, she knew Rachel was right again. She had to be there for him. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself for missing that moment.

George met their parents on the altar, and hugged each one of them tightly. Quinn’s mother wailed. She might not have shown it like Quinn did, but Quinn knew she wouldn’t take George’s absence in the house so easily either. Straining away from the protocol, George stepped aside to hug Quinn too, leaving the priest with a confused face. Russell shrugged, and the priest waited as George’s arms wrapped Quinn’s waist.

“I love you,” he whispered. Quinn nodded against his shoulder, feeling her eyes pooling. He did, and she knew it. Her family may have a strange way of showing and acting on it, but she was sure she was loved. At least by George and by her father. 

George pulled away and grinned at her, getting her to roll her eyes and finally smile. A tear slipped out, and he caught it on his thumb before pulling her by the cheeks and dropping a kiss on her forehead. He whispered a small _sorry_ for the priest before positioning himself again. The priest simply nodded and announced the bride’s entrance.

Quinn had already seen Arabella. Of course she looked beautiful, she didn’t even had to try. She had the kind of beauty that felt just effortless. But when Quinn watched her through George’s eyes, seeing the love showing on his face, she felt her heart sinking. He looked at her as if she was undeniably the most beautiful woman to ever stand on Earth. He looked at her as if he couldn’t ever get luckier. And Quinn wondered if Rachel would look at her the same, if they could ever get married. 

She would never know.

* * *

The rest of the wedding went on and Quinn managed to keep herself from shedding more tears as George shared his vows. She didn’t really feel like staying for the party and having to interact with the so many people that acted like they knew her so well, when in all honesty she hated most of them - but she waited for dinner to be served, because she hadn’t eaten anything aside from breakfast and the thought of going to bed hungry didn’t appeal her at all.

“Thank you for coming,” George said, coming from behind Quinn and hugging her from the side. Quinn had heard him say that same sentence to several guests, over and over again, but the words hadn’t sounded as truthful as when he said them to her. 

“Thank you for helping Rachel,” she replied, calling truce with a shy smile.

“Maybe we can go on double dates, now,” he played, nudging her on the shoulder. She sighed, and her smile lost its joy.

“I guess this is the only wedding this farm will ever see,” she whispered. George pouted sympathetically. “Do you think father will be saddened that he will never get to walk me down the isle?”

“Oh, he’ll live,” George said with a shrug, trying to play it cool. Quinn thanked him mentally for that. “So, no more fighting right?” he asked, and Quinn nodded shyly again. “I always only want what’s better for you, Quinn. You can know that for sure.”

“She’s a nice one,” Quinn said, tilting her head towards the bride that greeted other guests. “Arabella. I guess it won’t be such an effort to try and get along with her. Besides, I’ll have to be around to make sure my bedroom in the city is redecorated to my tastes, right?”

“God, I missed you,” George said with a giggle, hugging her even tighter. 

“Well, isn’t it the most pleasant surprise to see my two favorite children getting along so well?” Russell said, approaching them with his hands behind his back.

“How are you enjoying the party, father?” George asked, letting go from Quinn but keeping an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t complain.

“Oh, it’s been marvelous!” he answered. “But I’m afraid I’m gonna have to come inside a little earlier than I had planned, for I’m not feeling _perfectly_ well.”

“What are you feeling?” George asked, placing a hand on his father’s forehead. He frowned in concern when Russell closed his eyes to conceal the pain. Quinn swallowed dryly. “Father, you are burning with a fever, again!” 

“Don’t you worry, George, it will break as soon as I get to lay down for a while. It’s probably only the stress concerning the wedding. I’m only old,” he dismissed with a wave of hand, taking one step back to ensure George wouldn’t touch him again. “Your mother is coming inside in a few minutes to check on me. We’ll give you children a little privacy to enjoy your party!”

“See you later, father,” Quinn said, as he grabbed her hand for a kiss before heading inside.

“He’s starting to worry me,” George said, and Quinn chuckled.

“Come on, George. He probably only drank too much,” Quinn said with a frown. She had been worrying too, but she wanted George to calm her down, not to make her more nervous about her father’s health. “You know father, he never takes his drinks too well,” she said.

“No, Quinn,” George shook his head with his lips tight. “He hasn’t been well for a while and we can’t seem to figure out what is wrong. But his fevers are getting higher and more frequent. That’s not a very good sign.”

“Do you think perhaps we should tell him to head to London to see some other doctors?” Quinn asked. She didn’t want George to think she didn’t trust him as a doctor. She hadn’t even been worried until recently - her father had always gotten sick easily, but he always got better just as easily and she never batted an eye. But if George was worried, it meant things were exactly as alright as she tried to make herself believe.

“Perhaps,” he replied with a murmur. “I’m not sure if he could take such a long trip as of right now, though,” he considered, and Quinn’s frown deepened. She wondered if there was something she hadn’t been told. “Well, now is not the time for us to worry about that. Let’s enjoy the wedding! Would you like a glass of champagne?”

* * *

Rachel went down to the kitchen house to have dinner with Dorea, Lou Lee and Abbie, since she knew Quinn would probably still take a while to come back inside. She was still a few feet away from the kitchen house’s door when she heard the piercing scream that made her rush her way inside. Lou Lee laid on the bed, covered only by a long white sheet over her legs. Dorea held her hand as Abbie squeezed a rag on a bucket of water.

“Oh my God!” Rachel squealed, coming inside with her hands over her mouth. “Is she in labor? Is the baby coming? Is everything alright?” Rachel had never seen anyone having a baby, but she had heard the stories. She knew it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling.

“Yes and if my guesses are right it won’t take very much longer,” Dorea beamed, before Lou Lee screamed again, gripping her hand tighter. Rachel ran to the other side of the bed and offered her hand too. Lou Lee grabbed it at once. “Don’t let her yells scare you, she is fine,” Dorea said with a smile.

“Should I call George?” Rachel asked. “He’s a doctor, perhaps he could help!” 

“It’s his wedding, Rachel!” Abbie reminded her with a chuckle. It felt weird to have someone in so much pain in the room while the other women acted so joyfully. Rachel didn’t get how they could be so calm with Lou Lee yelling like that. “We don’t need a doctor, unless something happens. I’ve helped dozens of slaves have their babies. Everything will be fine.”

“Well, can I help with something?” she asked nervously, as Lou Lee took quick shallow breaths. “Why didn’t you call me earlier? I could have helped!”

“You’re helping just fine by holding her hand,” Dorea reassured her. “There’s nothing we can really do. We just have to let her body do its work!” 

“It feels like it’s burning!” Lou Lee yelled, even louder than before, and Abbie and Dorea smiled. Rachel’s eyes shot open in worry.

“Well, that means is coming, darling!” said Dorea, grinning and kissing her hand.

“Come on, Lou, it’s time for you to start pushing!” said Abbie, positioning herself in front of Lou Lee’s legs with the wet rag in her hands. “On 3, alright? 1, 2, 3! Push!” 

And Lou Lee did. She shut her eyes tight and yelled as she pushed with all her strength. She pushed, and she pushed, and she pushed, and Rachel thought it would never end and that Lou Lee wouldn’t be able to take it, and just when she was about to offer to go grab George again, she heard it. The screeching cry. Abbie caught the baby and wiped it down with the wet rag, as Dorea released Lou Lee’s hand and grabbed a clean sheet to wrap around the baby.

“It’s a boy, Lou!” said Abbie with a squeal, handing the baby over to Dorea. 

“Do you have a name for him, darling?” Dorea asked, placing a kiss on the little boy’s curly and thick hair. 

“Bernard,” Lou Lee said between panting breaths, wiping the sweat out of her forehead. “I’ll name him after his father. He’ll be my little Bernie,” she said with a smile, holding out her arms. “Let me hold him!”

Dorea carefully passed the baby onto Lou Lee’s arms and it was the first time Rachel could quite get a glimpse of the baby’s face. It had Lou Lee’s pouty mouth, and the most beautiful eyelashes. Rachel reached out a hand to grab the baby’s tiny hand, and felt her stomach fluttering.

“He’s so beautiful, Lou!” she said. Her stomach felt like fluttering again, and placing a hand on top of it she could almost swear she could feel it from the outside. “He looks just like you.”

“Welcome to our little family, little one,” said Abbie, putting her index finger on Bernie’s palm. He was tiny, but he grabbed her finger tightly, and they all smiled. Rachel’s eyes welled up. “You are so loved!” 


	24. Chapter 24

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

Quinn was kneeling on the ground, weeding out the rose bushes. Rachel held the sun umbrella over their heads. Quinn had argued it wasn't necessary, but the summer sun was at its peak, and Rachel didn't want Quinn to get a sunburn. It broke her heart to see Quinn trying so hard to get something to bloom every season, only to be disappointed a few weeks later when the bushes started to dry out again. Perhaps the Caribbean sun was just too hard on the roses.

Still, there were few times Rachel knew Quinn was as relaxed as when she had her hands covered in dirt. Which is precisely the reason why Rachel chose this exact moment to tell Quinn what she had been suspecting. She had been quiet all day, and Quinn had noticed it. She couldn't post pone it much further.

"What is running inside your head?" Quinn asked, looking up to her from under her hat. Rachel bit her lip, and kneeled by Quinn's side to come closer and assure no one else would hear it.

"I think I might be pregnant," she whispered, getting it all out of her chest at once. Quinn fumbled with the tools in her hand and dropped them on the ground before turning towards Rachel with the most startled eyes.

"Wha- How-" Quinn stuttered, fluttering her eyes and swallowing hard. Rachel felt her hands getting sweaty and her stomach flipped again. It had done that a lot lately. She was getting used to all that movement going on inside of her. "I can't get you pregnant, can I?" she asked, and Rachel's mouth hang open for a second when she realized Quinn hadn't connected the dots.

"Quinn," she whispered with a sad smile and a shake of her head. Quinn's eyes shot even wider when realization hit her, and Rachel felt a tug in her heart.

"What are we gonna do?" Quinn murmured with her eyes filled with tears. Rachel reached for her hand, but she flinched away and shook her head. Rachel was almost hurt - but then she remembered they were outside where everyone could see and convinced herself that was the reason Quinn wouldn't touch her.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked with a frown, looking down to the bushes to avoid Quinn's eyes. She was too scared of reading in them what Quinn wasn't saying out loud.

"Well, you don't wanna have this baby, do you?" Quinn asked, but got her answer solely from Rachel's expression of shock at what she insinuated. Rachel had been terrified once she first suspected it, but that thought had never crossed her mind. She didn't think this would be the context, but she had always dreamed of having a child. "Rachel, you can't! That baby isn't yours, it's _theirs_!" Rachel frowned further, twisting her face with disgust for Quinn's words.

"This baby is _mine_! It's inside of me, it doesn't matter how it got there. It's mine and only mine," she said. Quinn didn't move and stood still with her face pale in startle. "I can't believe you would even say that," Rachel said in a murmur, shaking her head again and turning to face the other way.

"Are you _sure_ though? That you are pregnant?" Quinn asked, scrunching up her nose. She didn't knew why Quinn's reactions were hurting her so much. Of course, she hadn't expected Quinn to be quite on board with all of that, but still, she didn't think would be so bad. "You haven't been getting morning sickness or anything. Isn't that how it goes?"

"Well, I'm _almost_ sure, but that's why I'm telling you. I think George could know for sure if I really am pregnant or not," she explained, and Quinn nodded. "But I can't talk to him about that. So I was wondering if you…" she motioned with her hands towards her stomach instead of finishing the sentence. Quinn understood.

"Okay," Quinn said with a firm nod. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him. I'll fix this."

"Quinn, there's nothing to fix!" Rachel whined, feeling her heart tugging again. Although small, she had kept her hope that perhaps Quinn could be happy with the news. It was devastating to see her talk about the pregnancy like that.

"Yes, right!" Quinn nodded again, shutting her eyes tightly. "Sorry. I'll just talk to him," she said.

But perhaps Quinn was only startled with the surprise of it all. Rachel was too, at first. Perhaps Quinn could come to terms with the idea. Rachel could try to change her mind. She knew how to be persuasive when she wanted to.

* * *

"Father, you won't believe what happened!" Quinn cried out, entering her parents bedroom. Judy quickly placed herself between Russell and Quinn, stopping her from getting too close. Quinn narrowed her eyebrows in a scowl.

"Come on, Quinn. You're father isn't well, this isn't the time for you to bother him with one more of your stupid little problems!" said Judy. Quinn's mouth fell open. She considered taking a step back, but her father grabbed her hand to keep her close.

"Oh, Judy, let her speak. I can't stand being stuck in this bed any longer. At least let my sweet child keep me company and entertain me with the news of her life," said Russell, gently pushing Judy out of the way and scooting to the middle of the bed so that Quinn could lay by his side. Quinn promptly abode, and threw her legs over the covers.

"That's why you never get better, Russell! You never follow the doctors recommendations. They said rest and no visits! But I'm done, you're grown already and I'm tired of trying to help you," Judy said, marching her way out of the room. Quinn frowned and turned to look at her father, but he only shook his head.

"Don't worry," he said. "She'll be back in just a few minutes to check on me again. I'm irresistible." He chuckled, and so did Quinn - before she remembered the reason that took her there in the first place. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"I think Rachel might be pregnant," she said in a whisper, feeling her cheeks blushing. This wasn't the kind of subject she was used to talk about with her father.

"Well, those are some wonderful news!" he said, with a smile so big that almost made Quinn forget how sick he was - until he started coughing again.

"Wonderful?" she asked with a cringe, when he could finally breath again to listen to her. "How?"

"Well, dear, her work load isn't that hard, so she will be able to continue doing her chores pregnant or not without affecting business. And we can profit from this child. We can sell it in the future. Especially if it turns out to be light skinned like she is, we can make a lot of money!" Russell said, and Quinn's stomach churned. She hadn't think about keeping the baby, but selling it - taking it away from its mother, from Rachel - sounded even more awful.

"But father, she's a single woman, that's not right!" Quinn argued.

"Oh, those are white people rules, my dear. They don't apply to slaves. Slaves have children and more children all the time without ever getting married. They're different," he shrugged, and his face twisted in pain. Moving hurt too much. Quinn caught his hand, to give a gentle massage as she spoke.

"Well, still. I don't think that's right. In fact, I came to you seeking a way to take this baby out. She doesn't want to, but I'm fairly sure I can convince her if I try hard enough. I think it's just the best for everyone."

"Quinn, are you aware this is an awful sin? You want to kill one of God's children. _That's_ not right. It disgusts me that you would even think about that. You sound just like your m-" he stopped himself, and shook his head.

"Like whom?" Quinn asked, but he shook his head again.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Just get that idea out of your head. You won't do anything against this baby, Quinn, did you hear me? Anything," he said, much more firm than she figured he still could be, being as sick as he was. But she nodded. For a second Quinn wondered if that was _really_ the reason why he seemed so invested on a child he had just heard about a minute ago - but she shook those thoughts out of her head. Nothing had happened between her father and Rachel. Rachel had assured her. She would drive herself nuts if she didn't stop thinking of that possibility. "I know for a fact you would regret if you did anything. You'll be able to see that in the future. Children can be wonderful for a house. You'll see how much life that small baby will bring onto here!"

* * *

"Quinn?" Rachel called, knocking on the door. Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. Rachel never knocked.

"Yes?" she asked suspiciously.

"There's someone over here who wants to meet you," Rachel said. Quinn walked to the door and tried to see who it was by the crack of the door - but she couldn't see anything.

"Who is it?" Quinn asked, but before she could get an answer, Rachel had already opened the door.

Quinn gasped, seeing Rachel with a baby on her arms. For a second, it crossed her mind that it was Rachel's baby - and she wanted to hit herself when a second later she realized how absurd that sounded. She didn't know a lot about pregnancies, but at least she knew they weren't _that_ fast.

"Whose baby is that?" Quinn asked, taking a few steps back. She didn't know why, but she didn't feel comfortable around that baby. Something about him looked and felt way too familiar, but Quinn had no idea what.

"Lou Lee's," Rachel answered, taking a step forward. Quinn couldn't walk any further away, or Rachel would notice it - and Quinn knew she would be hurt. She knew Rachel hadn't just casually brought that baby up to Quinn's room, especially knowing the risks of meeting Judy on her way. "Isn't he handsome? His name is Bernie," she said. Quinn nodded nervously. "Would you like to hold him?" Rachel asked.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Rachel," she said with a nervous chuckle. "I have never held a baby. I could drop him."

"It's not that hard," Rachel said with a smile, coming even closer. Quinn's back hit the bed, and she sat down. Rachel took advantage of Quinn's immobility to sit by her side, and placed the baby in Quinn's arms before she could protest any further. "See? I knew you could do it," Rachel said with a smile.

Quinn stood still, afraid even the smallest movement could wake up the child. Rachel scoot closer, brushing their arms together and placing a finger inside the baby's hand. Bernie squirmed for a second, and Quinn caught her breath - but then he sighed deeply and smiled, and Quinn felt something melting inside of her. And then it hit her. And then she remembered why that tiny little boy looked so familiar.

"You know," Quinn whispered, catching Rachel's attention. "Do you remember Mama Minda? I've told you about her before," she said, and Rachel nodded. "She used to take care of a baby boy that looked just like this one. When she died, I took care of him for a few days. I told everyone he was my baby. Until my parents found out, that is," she said, with a sad smile. Rachel lifted her other hand to gently caress Quinn's cheek.

"I could share it with you," she whispered. Quinn frowned in confusion, and Rachel looked down to her stomach. With the thick gown and so many undergarments, Quinn couldn't see any difference. "It's _my_ baby. But perhaps it could be a little bit yours too."

"I don't know, Rachel," Quinn murmured, closing her eyes for a second. She couldn't deny her heart had swollen with Rachel's words, but still…

"What are you afraid of?" Rachel asked. "I know you, Quinn. You're terrible at keeping secrets. You're not telling me why you are so uncomfortable with all of this." Quinn sighed. Rachel was always right.

"I'm afraid every time I see this baby, I'll remember. I'll remember all those men around you, with their hands on you and-" she stopped herself. She couldn't go on, and a hiccup broke on her chest. She hadn't admitted to herself until then, and to say it out loud made it sound even worse, but it was the true. She was afraid she would hate the child because of the way it had been conceived. Rachel grabbed the baby back into one of her arms, and pulled Quinn closer with the other. Quinn drew a deep breath to stop herself from crying. She didn't want to.

"Quinn, I'm sure that won't happen," Rachel smiled sadly. "I'm sure you'll love this baby the second you meet it. The same way you love me, regardless of everything that happened to me. This baby isn't guilty of anything. It isn't his fault."

"I'll think about it, okay?" Quinn promised, snuffling. She just wanted to make that conversation go away. She wanted to make that whole situation disappear.

"Let's make a deal, alright?" Rachel asked, and Quinn opened her eyes to face her. "Let me keep it. When it's born, I'll make sure you're the first one to meet it. And if it doesn't happen- if you don't fall in love with it, I'll bring it to kitchen house. I'm sure Dorea and Abbie won't mind helping me raise it. And I'll make sure you never get to see that baby, if you're right and it brings you bad memories. How does that sound?"

Terrible.

It sounded simply awful to make Rachel hide her baby in the kitchen house - it sounded just like something her mother would make happen. And that's when Quinn knew. It didn't matter how it hurt her, or how many bad memories the baby brought - they would keep it. Because Rachel wanted, and Rachel already loved it, and nothing in that farm mattered but Rachel's happiness.

"No," she said. Rachel's eyes shot open, and were about to start fluttering to cry when Quinn stopped her. "We'll keep it, and if it hurts me, you'll help me. And you'll show me how to love it. You'll teach me. You've thought me how to love you, didn't you? I was awful at that too. I don't really know how to deal with my feelings. With love. Because my mother never taught me. She never showed me what a mother's love is supposed to feel like. But I'm sure you can help me."

"I will," Rachel nodded vigorously, hugging her tightly with the one arm available as Bernie slept safe and sound in her arm, oblivious to everything that went around him. "I love you so much, Quinn. We'll be a little family together," she whispered shyly, and Quinn nodded.

"I love you too," Quinn whispered back, rehearsing how the words sounded on her lips when she imagined the you concerning more than just Rachel.

* * *

"George!" Quinn greeted him by the door, tackling him in a tight hug. As she had suspected, they didn't get to see each other as much now that he had moved. Yet, it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. In the end, they ended up seizing more the few times they met, now that it wasn't taken for granted. "How are you enjoying the city life?"

"Oh, it's been great!" he answered with a chuckle, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "It's terrific not to have to take such a long ride to see my patients, and to be able to get fresh bread by just crossing the street. If it was just a little bit quieter, I think it would be perfect."

"I'm sure I would never get used to all that noise," said Quinn, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head. George chuckled.

"Anyway, how have you been doing? Is everything okay? What did you need me for?" George asked, and Quinn could hear the concern in his voice. She couldn't have sent the carriage driver to fetch George with the information of why he was necessary.

"Everything is fine, I just need you to check a little something. Would you walk with me to my room?" she asked and he nodded, wrapping an arm around hers. As they came inside, Rachel promptly got up. George never cared about those formalities, but Quinn knew it was hard for Rachel to break those habits.

"Rachel, how great to see you!" he said, with a bright smile. Quinn smiled too. It was heartwarming to see someone in her family who liked Rachel more than for just being a useful slave.

"It's nice to see you too, George," she answered shyly. Quinn lead Rachel to sit on the edge of the bed, and pulled a chair for George to sit in front of her. He was still somewhat confused about his reason for being there, until Quinn broke the news.

"We're thinking Rachel might be pregnant," she said. George's eyes shot open in surprise, but quickly softened with empathy. Quinn bit her lip. _That_ should have been her reaction. She still had so much to learn about how to care for people.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, catching Rachel's hand between his.

"It's okay, don't be sorry," said Quinn, trying to break the gloomy mood. "She wants to keep it. We'll take care of it, and everything will be fine," she said, partially reassuring herself too. It's what she wanted to believe, after all.

"Well, in that case congratulations," he said with a nervous giggle, pressing Rachel's hand a tad more firmly. "Babies are always a blessing! What have been your symptoms?"

"I don't know," Rachel said with a small shy shrug. Quinn sat by her side, to give her support. "I can feel it moving inside of me." George nodded. Quinn swallowed hard. She couldn't imagine that - having something alive inside of you. It sounded terrifying.

"Would you mind taking off your gown? You can keep your stays, but I will need to check a few things and the gown's fabric is too thick," he explained, and Rachel nodded without a care, already pulling the laces of her gown. She looked perfectly comfortable with the situation, and Quinn felt something in the pit of her stomach. She knew it was ridiculous to even consider being jealous, especially since it was George, but still. She couldn't help it. "Have you been having morning sickness?" he asked.

"No, I haven't, sir," Rachel answered.

"Drop the sir, Rachel," said George, with a smirk. Rachel blushed.

"That's what I asked her too," Quinn said with a firm nod. "Shouldn't she be having those? Perhaps it's only a stomachache, right?" Rachel frowned, and Quinn regretted her words. George ignored her.

"Have you been getting your menses?" he asked, but Rachel remained quiet for a few seconds, fluttering her eyes. Quinn frowned, not understanding why she wouldn't answer George.

"I don't know what is that," she confessed. Quinn gasped quietly, but George shook his head and tapped the back of Rachel's hand.

"It's perfectly fine, don't worry!" he reassured her. "It's that time of the month where you bleed for a few days," he explained patiently, and Rachel's eyes widened as she nodded quickly.

"Yes! I haven't had that anymore!" she said with a vigorous nod. George nodded with tight sealed lips, and wrote something down on his notepad. Rachel must have realized Quinn's face of surprise, because she shyly tried to explain herself. "My mother was already dead when that started to happen, so no one really taught me about it. I had to figure it out on my own," she whispered. Quinn smiled sympathetically and grabbed her other hand.

"Well, Rachel, that's the main symptom of a pregnancy, so I'm fairly sure we're past the doubt stage now," George said, and Quinn could feel Rachel lightening up. She was quite excited about that baby, and Quinn looked forward to the moment she too would be. "Now, if you excuse me, may I check your heartbeat?" he asked, and she nodded. He placed his ear against Rachel's chest, and held her to stay still. "It seems like everything is fine with you. Now, may I try to see if I can find the baby's heartbeat?" he asked, and she nodded again. He carefully pulled her stays to be tighter around her stomach, marking a round belly, and placed his ear against it. He moved a little bit to each side, until finally stopping near her left ribs. "Here it is! What a strong baby!" he said, and Rachel beamed. Quinn shifted in her seat nervously. "Would you like to hear it, Quinn?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered shyly, kneeling by the floor and placing her head exactly where his had been. She didn't know what exactly to look for and frowned when she didn't hear anything. But then George gently pulled her head just a little to the side, and the most powerful thud rang against her ears. Her eyes shot open and she took a step back in startle. "That's it? That's loud!"

"It is quite loud indeed," he said with a giggle. Rachel was still smiling from Quinn's reaction when Quinn came back to her side on the bed. Quinn grabbed her hand again, but squeezed it tighter this time. They would be fine. "I believe you are pretty far ahead already, Rachel. Your stomach may not be that big, but that surely has to do with how small you are and your alimentation habits. I wouldn't give you anything more than a couple months before this baby is here among us," he said, and Quinn's stomach sank. That was not enough time for her to get used to all this change. "Be sure to feed her well in the meantime, Quinn. The baby still needs to gain weight," he said.

"Of course, yes," Quinn said with a nod. "What do we need to do now, then?"

"Nothing but wait, and make sure she rests a little. Also don't get her to do any hard work. No lifting heavy things or such," he said, and Quinn nodded again. She was about to ask him if he thought that perhaps she should stop working altogether, but the door was slammed open before she could open her mouth.

By the door frame stood Judy, paler than Quinn had ever seen her and quite out of breath. She stood still, eyes wide open in shock seeing Rachel, only on her shifts, sitting in Quinn's bed, George kneeling in front of her and Quinn attached to her arm. Quinn felt her heart stopping. Quinn felt the whole world stopping. But instead of freaking out, like she had assumed her mother would, she simply ran to George's side and grabbed him by the arm.

"George, come with me, for Lord's sake!" she said with a cry, and only then Quinn noticed her bloodshot eyes and tears running down her face. "Your father just had a convulsion and is not making any sense! Please, hurry!"

* * *

The three of them walked into the room to find a sweaty Russell on the bed, still shaking a little. Rachel followed just after putting her gown over her stays, and stood by the door watching as George hurriedly went through his briefcase, looking for something. She knew she probably wasn't welcomed in what was such an intimate family moment, but she was just too curious - and nervous - and no one was paying attention enough to tell her to get out, so she stood there.

"Father? Can you hear me?" George asked, setting fire to a small wood stick and moving it in front of Russell's eyes. Russell didn't answer at all, but kept on mumbling the incoherent words he had been saying since they arrived.

"What is going on, George?" Judy asked, but George didn't answer.

Instead, George grabbed a scalpel and made a deep cut in Russell's arm. Rachel cringed and shivered as the blood quickly started coming out onto a small bowl. She had no idea what was that for, but she trusted George. Russell didn't complain of pain at all. Rachel wondered if he was already gone.

"Father, look at me," George tried again, holding Russell's head in his direction. "We're getting this out of your body, whatever it is. Don't worry, father. Hold in there!"

Quinn stood by the bed foot, watching everything with wide eyes. George seemed in a hush, and Rachel was fairly sure it was in vain. Russell wasn't there anymore, just like her mother wasn't there the night before she officially died. Rachel believed your soul left before your body did. And Russell's was long gone.

"Loathe and love are sometimes so similar," Russell murmured between coughs, and everyone narrowed their eyebrows trying to find meaning in the fist comprehensible words he had let out in a while.

"George, he's burning hot! Do something!" Judy yelled, and Rachel realized the tears wouldn't stop coming out from her eyes. Rachel had never seem Judy lose control of herself. It was scary to watch. It was even scarier to find out Judy indeed had feelings.

"I'm doing all I can, mother! I don't know what's happening to him, I've never seen anything quite like this!" George cried back, and Rachel wondered to what extent his emotions were stopping him from doing what it took to let his father go in peace. The blood kept spilling, and Rachel had no idea what they would do once that bowl was filled.

"Father?" Quinn asked timidly, walking just a few steps closer. Like magic, Russell's half-lid eyes shot open, and he took the last strength he had to reach out and grab her hand. "Everything will be okay, father," she said with a nervous smile.

"Frannie? Is that you?" he asked, and Rachel watched as Quinn lost control of her legs and tumbled down onto the bed. She watched as Russell broke Quinn's heart just one last time. "Oh, my dear, how you've grown! You look beautiful, Frannie! Oh, how I've missed you!"

"Don't listen to him, Quinn, he's not in his on mind," George said, and Rachel smiled sadly at how beautiful it was that even in a situation like the one they found themselves, George still tried to reassure Quinn - when in reality, everyone just knew the truth. Quinn was never the daughter her parents wanted. But Quinn nodded with a smile that quivered, even though only Rachel saw it.

Suddenly, Rachel felt the air in the room stalling. George laid his head on Russell's chest, but he didn't have to. All of them knew it had happened.

"His heart stopped," George murmured.

"No! Russell, come back right now!" Judy yelled, smacking his face, as if any of it would bring him back to life.

George pressed his clasped hands against Russell's chest and Rachel shuddered when she heard the noise of his bones cracking with all the strength he used to press Russell's chest down. There was no coming back. Rachel didn't even dare to breath and Judy fell in sobs hanging onto Russell's shirt and clinging onto him as if if she didn't hold tight enough she would end up going too.

George grabbed Quinn's hand, while the other one was still grasped with their father's. The siblings exchanged a look filled with pain, and it hurt Rachel only from watching. None of them shed a tear. But Rachel did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last update of this year! I'm taking a break for the holidays, but I'll be back mid-January. I hope all of you have fantastic holidays! Don't forget to drop a review on your way out!


	25. Chapter 25

_Basseterre, 1779_

* * *

Quinn hated wearing black, and the mere thought of having to do so for a long time after her father's death made her groan. Whoever created the rules about mourning had certainly not lived in the Caribbean during the summer. Or maybe thinking about her hate for black was just her way of distracting her mind from everything else that happened around her.

Quinn's heels clacked as she walked down the cemetery towards where her father would be buried. Her spine shivered as she looked around and saw the so many graves around her. It was disturbing to realize she was surrounded by more dead people than alive ones. It was even more disturbing to think every single one of them had a story and family of their own, but that none of that mattered then. The one thing that disturbed her the most was to see how empty Russell's service was. Her father had always had many friends. Quinn couldn't understand why so few of them had come to the funeral.

Her mind felt blurry. She knew she should be upset about her father's death - well, probably more than upset, taken how close they were. But she didn't. She didn't feel a thing, not even as she watched everyone setting roses on top of his coffin before it was laid on to the ground. Her mother threw herself on the top of the coffin and stood there, wailing and yelling for the whole service. Her brother was by their mother's side, trying to hide his tears behind his hat and gripping tightly on to Arabella's hand.

And Quinn was there. Alone. So detached that she didn't even look like a member of the family.

Rachel had offered to come, but Quinn honestly didn't find a reason for it. Rachel shouldn't be standing up for long periods of time, especially in black clothes under the hot sun. It could be bad for the baby. Besides, Quinn was okay. She didn't need anyone to hang on to. She didn't. But now she wished she had that someone, anyway.

She didn't cry because it didn't feel real. She watched as the coffin was lowered, and twisted her face when her mother screamed louder and louder, but something inside her told her that this wasn't happening. That after it was all done, they would come back home and her father would be sitting in the drawing room drinking his coffee, reading the newspaper and greeting her with the tightest hug ever. Like it had always been. Like it should always be.

Quinn heard a suppressed sob and turned back to find a slave hiding his face behind his hand. Quinn shuddered. Among the many slaves in the back, most of them looked sadder than she did. It wasn't right. It was even more wrong that the only thing she felt was jealousy, for she knew she would never be liked by the slaves like her father was. But then she found Lou Lee's eyes and the woman gave her a small smile. She was the first person to acknowledge Quinn ever since she walked into that cemetery. Everyone else was just too busy consoling her mother and brother, but Quinn? She didn't need it, Quinn was always fine. She smiled back.

"For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens," quoted the priest, and all Quinn could do was sigh in relief.

It was over. She could go back home. There were so many things she still had to do, to take care of. But this part was over.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1779_

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, rubbing her eyes as she walked inside the dark office where a shy candlelight burned atop of the huge wooden desk. Quinn scribbled something down, and didn't even seem to noticed Rachel's entrance. "What are you doing here? It's late, you should be sleeping," Rachel argued.

"I'm alright. _You_ should be sleeping," she murmured back, without lifting her eyes from the piles of papers. Rachel took one step closer to try to see what Quinn was working on, but she placed a file over the paper she was writing, before Rachel could see what it was about. Rachel's reading lessons had stopped long ago, but she still could make out a few words. "Go bed, you need to rest," Quinn said, finally looking in Rachel's eyes.

Rachel's heart broke. She could see all the pain, stress and anxiety in Quinn's eyes, and it hurt her to see that Quinn kept it all to herself. She knew for a fact that Quinn had a hard time dealing with and expressing her feelings, but she had assumed they were close enough now for Quinn to know that she could trust Rachel and open up to her. Rachel wasn't wise enough to advise her or offer inspiring words, but at least she knew she could be a good shoulder to cry on.

"Do you wanna talk?" Rachel asked in a whisper, pulling the chair across the desk and sitting in front of Quinn. Quinn adverted her eyes and went back to the papers, furrowing her eyebrows and letting out a small scoff.

"What about?" she asked, but Rachel knew her question had been understood. She reached out and grabbed Quinn's hand, to stop her from fumbling with all the papers and to catch her attention again. "I'm really fine, Rach. I just have a lot of stuff I need to take care of, and I can't sleep until I know it's all done. But everything else is perfectly fine!"

"Quinn, you don't have to do all of that now. Your father _just_ passed away. It's alright if you take a little time for yourself," Rachel said sweetly, bringing Quinn's hand to her mouth and dropping a kiss there. Quinn smiled for a half a second and sighed. Rachel thought she had done it, but in a blink she saw Quinn's eyes darkening again, and Quinn shook her head.

"No," she murmured, pulling her hand back. Rachel's hand stung with the harshness, but she didn't say anything. Her feelings weren't a priority in that moment. She was there to help Quinn. "There's no use in being sad. It won't bring him back or anything."

Rachel never thought she and Quinn were alike in the least, but in that moment she realized how really different they were. It had been many years since Rachel's mother had died, and still, there wasn't one day Rachel didn't think of her with longing and sadness. It took a great amount of effort for her to be able to dissociate those feelings from Quinn, but even when she did forgive Quinn, it didn't help her miss her mother less. Quinn, on the other hand, wouldn't allow herself to feel bad not even for a day.

It also told a lot about the way Quinn had been raised. Rachel never had freedom, but once she was dismissed from her daily chores, that was it. She had alone time to think and form her own thoughts. Quinn never had it. From the second she was born she had the weight of her parent's expectations in her shoulders, and a mother that judged and molded everything she did, to a point where not even her thoughts were her own anymore. Her mother told her to be still and sit pretty - regardless of how she felt - and that's what she always did - even in a drastic moment where even her mother lost her composure.

"Quinn, you can talk to me. There's no one else awake, it's only you and me. You don't need to handle everything alone," Rachel said, getting up and walking around the table to stand at Quinn's side. Rachel didn't touch her, cause she wasn't sure the proximity would be received well. Quinn was stiff. "I'm here for you," she murmured. Quinn shook her head quickly and closed her lips tightly in a thin line. Rachel could see tears pooling in Quinn's eyes, but she was just too proud to let them go.

"Everything is a mess," she answered in a sigh, crumbling a piece of paper and shoving it in the trash. "This farm is going much worse than my father ever let us know, and I have no idea what to do. I'm not ready for this. I don't know how to fix this. I didn't think he would die so soon, and there's still so much I need to learn and now I have no one to even ask to and the future of this whole farm - his only legacy!- it's all on my hands and I didn't even start yet, but I already know that I'm messing things up and-" she stopped herself when a hiccup escaped her throat and she couldn't hold up the sobs anymore.

Rachel knew she had pushed it. It was exactly what she wanted, that Quinn would tell her what was going on. Then why did she feel so terrible? She hated that Quinn felt that way, and she hated that there was nothing she could do to help her. It terrified her to know that the farm wasn't going well, but at the same time, she felt like she could trust Quinn to fix things. There was no way she could pass that comfort on to Quinn, so she did the only thing her mind could think of at that moment and in leap, wrapped her arms tightly around Quinn. She felt Quinn stiffening further, and waited for the moment she would finally melt into the embrace - but it never happened.

"I'm sorry," Quinn cried out, shuffling her way out of Rachel's arms and running out of the door before Rachel could even protest.

* * *

"George? George!" Quinn banged on his door, yelling as tears ran down her face. He had stayed the night in case their mother needed any help. Quinn had tried to convince him that it wasn't necessary but for once she was glad he hadn't heard her. She needed him more than ever.

"Quinn? What happened?" George asked opening the door in startle. She flung herself into his arms and felt the sobs ripping her chest once again, taking away all the force she required to answer his question. But even then, he hugged her tightly as if he understood exactly what she meant.

"Daddy died," she whispered between hiccups, and felt him hugging her even tighter. Suddenly, all the pain and sadness she hadn't felt ever since she heard her father's voice for the last time hit all at once and she wasn't sure she was able to handle it all. She knew Rachel had only meant to help, but she didn't feel like Rachel would understand. For Rachel, Russell was and would always be only the mean master that whipped her back raw and threatened to rape her. Of course, Quinn hadn't forgot about that. The fact that her father had died didn't excuse his prior mistakes, but still. He was her father, and for many, many years, the only source of comfort she had in that house - although definitely not as present as he should have been.

"I know, dear," George whispered, running his hands through her hair. George understood her. She knew what she felt, even if she tried to hold it all back. "Come here," he said, pulling her to the drawing room and carefully closing the door. He didn't want to wake up Arabella. Quinn felt dumb for not thinking of that before knocking on his door so loudly, but decided for once to forgive herself. She wasn't able to think about those small things at that moment, and it was okay.

"George, what will I do without him?" she asked, sitting on the couch and bringing him with her. She clutched to his arm, which ironically only reminded her further of her father and the so many times she had snuggled against him in that very same couch as he helped her with her lessons. He was the only one patient enough to teach her, and he was gone way before she learned everything she needed to. "I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I have no idea how to run this farm!"

"Yes, you do," he said firmly. "Your whole life you were prepared for that, Quinn. You know spots of this farm that I can't even imagine existing, because father only showed them to you. You were the only one welcome to sit and watch his meetings. I know you are scared, but deep down, you know everything you have to do. I trust you, and I don't say that to increase the pressure on you. I say it because I believe that even if you do mess up, you'll still manage to bring something good out of it."

"How can you say that? You can't know for sure, George. None of us can! Do you realize how much of a big responsibility this is? I'm still only 16," she weeped and he giggled. She almost got angry at him, but couldn't do so. His words comforted her, even if she didn't believe them fully.

"I know that everything will be fine because you love this farm," he said with a shrug. "You had every opportunity to get out of here, but you never wanted to. And that's all that matters, honestly. That's how father built this whole farm. He had a dream and he put every ounce of love he had to make it come true, and now you're gonna follow his steps and the farm will thrive even further."

"But George, things aren't like I thought they were. I was going over the finances, and turns out we have a lot of debts that father never told me about. The crop was not as rentable this year, possibly because of all the rain - which is even worst because I can't control that - and how will I fix things till next year?"

"Okay, I have no idea of what you're talking about, which honestly only proofs further how ready you are for this job," he said with a chuckle. Quinn wanted to chuckle too. She wanted to make things work. She wanted to make her father proud. "But if it makes you any calmer, I have an idea. I have a friend that lives in Basseterre and that studied Business back in England with me. I will reach out for him and ask him to come and help you, at least on the first months. He owns me a big favor, so I'm sure we won't have to pay for that, before you ask."

"That would be fantastic," Quinn said with the deepest sigh of relief. That was all she needed: to know that she wasn't alone. There was still people she could run to if she had any doubts, and there were people who trusted her to make things work. Her father would look down to Earth, and be proud of her. That is if he even looked down, at least. "George?" she asked quietly, just to clear her mind from the one last thing that bothered her so much. "Do you think he's with Frannie now?"

"Are you thinking about what he said before dying?" George asked. She shrugged. _Yes_. But she would never admit. She would never let anyone know how it had hurt her. Years and years of living together, and she was still nothing more than a replacement to him. To all of them, in all truth. "He was hallucinating, Quinn. You know he loved you, you were his favorite! I was so small when you were born, but I still remember the beaming in his eyes the first time he held you. I swear I had never seen him that happy," he said.

* * *

"You're still awake," Quinn stated as she walked back inside her bedroom. Rachel sat against the bed frame and shrugged lightly. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Her swollen belly, although not that big yet, had bothered her sleep a lot lately, but as long as Quinn was by her side she could always manage to go through the night. Without Quinn, it felt like everything just bothered her a lot more.

Quinn climbed on to bed and without a word snuggled against Rachel's side, resting her hand on the top of Rachel's belly. A touch that meant the world to Rachel. She could see Quinn had been crying, and she couldn't deny she still felt upset that Quinn had chosen another person to open up to - but in the end, it didn't matter. What mattered is that Quinn seemed much more calmer and that although her face was covered in tear trails, her eyes shined brighter. She still wasn't over everything, but she wasn't bottling up her feelings anymore. She was letting herself feel, even if it didn't feel good.

"Tell me about your mother," Quinn whispered, hiding her face on the crook of Rachel's neck and dropping a kiss there. Rachel frowned and swallowed dryly. This was the moment she would proof to herself if she had really been able to separate Quinn from what happened to her mother - so she tried her best to recall the nice moments she had with her mother without remembering how it all ended.

"She was young," Rachel started with a shaky breath. She had never talked about her mother to anyone. It still hurt. Perhaps it hurt more now that she was about to become a mother herself. "She wasn't ready to be a mother, but she did the best she could. It took me long to realize and understand I was a slave, because she created a whole world of fantasy for me and protected me from everything bad. She wasn't always patient and kind, but I get it. She went through a lot, and I knew she did it all for me. She loved me, and she always said that a love pure and truthful was the best gift you can ever give to anyone."

"I love you," Quinn murmured in a cry, wrapping her arms tighter against Rachel's belly. Rachel's heart fluttered. Quinn kept saying those words over and over, but it never touched her as deeply as when she proofed with her actions - and the simple fact that she didn't only hug Rachel, but Rachel's _belly_ showed her how far Quinn had come.

"I love you too," she murmured back, dropping a kiss on the top of Quinn's head and rubbing her arm. "Tell me about your father," Rachel whispered. They were only 16, and they had no idea how to deal with grief. They were forced to grown up too fast, but they managed to turn out okay. Talking about her mother had make Rachel feel even closer to Quinn, and she wanted to do the same. She wanted Quinn to let out her feelings. She wasn't too fond of Russell, but she knew he was important to Quinn, and she was willing to hear what she needed to say.

"Daddy loved me with pride," Quinn said, taking a deep breath. She went quiet for a moment, and Rachel thought perhaps she still wasn't ready to talk - but after a while she went on. "He spoiled me rotten. If I asked for a gown, I was given two. I asked for a bonnet, and he brought three straight from England. He did everything to make sure I was always beautiful and perfect. He closed his eyes when I did something wrong, to not ruin the image he wanted to keep of me. Sometimes it hurts to think that his love was never unconditional."

Rachel didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. Quinn had perfectly summed up everything Rachel had watched from the very first time she met them. Her father loved a Quinn that wasn't real. Her mother didn't seem to love her at all. Quinn's only sources of love were taken away from her when she was too young. Rachel felt a tear falling on her chest, but Quinn didn't raise her head. Instead, she started kissing Rachel's neck and collarbone. With searching kisses that seemed to tear her apart while Rachel tried to hold her together. Loving Rachel hurt her, but she never seemed to have enough of it.

"Kiss me," Quinn said, finally looking up. It broke Rachel to see how bloodshot Quinn's eyes were - but still, Quinn wouldn't let Rachel see her cry. "Please?" she asked. Rachel knew it wasn't right. Quinn just wanted to forget everything, and Rachel had always been her escape. As if the pain Rachel provided her as they laid together could make her forget all the pain she felt inside.

Rachel loved to inflict pain, at first. It felt liberating and empowering. It tasted like revenge. With time, her pleasure started coming not from the fact that Quinn was in pain, but from the pleasure Quinn got from that pain. It was only after their kisses started tasting like love, that she realized sometimes Quinn used her. Quinn wanted to punish herself - Rachel didn't know why - but whenever she felt guilty, she would turn on to Rachel looking for redemption.

Rachel knew it was wrong. She knew instead of just hurting Quinn, she should help her deal with her feelings - but she had no idea how, so she usually just obliged. But in that day she couldn't. Not when Quinn's eyes begged her for help as her mouth tried to bite skin off of Rachel's neck. Instead, she made sweet love to Quinn. She laid Quinn in bed and kissed and caressed every inch of her skin - much like Quinn had done to her the night after she had been whipped by Russell.

If whipping and spanking and biting Quinn had before felt liberating, nothing ever tasted so much like freedom as the privilege of being able to love Quinn like that, with all her heart, and to show Quinn what love really felt like. Unconditionally. She knew Quinn was far from perfect, but that didn't make her heart beat slower as she felt Quinn shivering under her hands. She whispered sweet words in Quinn's ear instead of the filthy ones she usually said, and they made Quinn shake even harder.

Quinn winced and moaned painfully, as if every ounce of love Rachel poured into her hurt more than the strongest slap Rachel could give her - but Rachel kept going, and loving and loving and loving her more as her fingers moved faster, until Quinn collapsed into the bed, like she had many times before. Breathless, melting into the mattress with half lid eyes. But something was different this time.

When she came to her senses, instead of turning to her side and falling asleep, she started sobbing. Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn before she could run again, and Quinn finally let go. Her body shook against Rachel, and Rachel kissed her everywhere she could reach as she let her cry. She cried for what it felt like days, and Rachel felt her heart tightening with each and every weep. But when Quinn fell asleep in her arms, letting out the deepest sigh, Rachel knew she would be fine. If anything, Quinn was strong. She would wake up the next day with a cleansed soul and all the strength she needed to bring that farm back up to what it once was.

And Rachel would gladly be there by her side.


	26. Chapter 26

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

Quinn leaned forward, resting her hands and head on top of Rachel's ever growing belly. It had become their little morning ritual, and Quinn started to feel closer to the baby by doing so. The first time the baby kicked upon hearing her voice, her stomach fluttered. She never thought she would grow so fond of a tiny person she hadn't even had the chance to meet yet, but as of that moment, Quinn was thankful Rachel had convinced her they should keep the baby.

"Ouch!" Rachel whined with a cringe as Quinn felt the strongest of the kicks. "Someone's pretty excited this morning. Are you saying good morning to Quinn, baby?" she asked, lowering her voice a few tones down. Quinn's heart swelled. She couldn't wait to see what the baby would look like. To hold it in her arms.

"Have you thought of names yet?" Quinn asked, gently running her thumbs where the baby feet had last kicked. She couldn't imagine what it was like to feel those kicks from inside. It probably wasn't the most comfortable feeling, but Rachel never really complained.

"Not really," Rachel answered with eyes wide in surprise, as if she had forgotten she was supposed to do so. None of them knew for sure what a baby needed, but they were lucky enough to be surrounded by people who loved Rachel and had way more experience than they did. "Have _you_ thought of anything?" Quinn shrugged, feeling her cheeks getting warmer. She had thought of many, although she knew it wasn't her place to do so. It wasn't her baby. "Tell me!" Rachel pushed, poking Quinn's cheek and making her giggle.

"Okay," she said shyly. "For a boy, I like Theodore, Matthew and Oliver. Oliver is my favorite, because we could call him little Ollie. I think it sounds sweet," she said with another shrug.

"I like it. I like it a lot!" Rachel said with a firm nod, placing her hand on top of Quinn's and running it along her belly. "What if it is a girl?"

"For a girl, I like Dorothy, Samantha… Georgia, because it sounds like George. I think he would like that. But when I think of it as a girl, I keep thinking-" she started, but shut her mouth. She wasn't sure how Rachel would feel about her idea, but Rachel nodded in a sign for her to go on, and she did. "I keep thinking that perhaps you should name her after your mother." Rachel's eyes pooled instantly, and Quinn immediately regretted saying so. "But it's just a stupid thought. It's your baby, you can name it whatever you want!" she said quickly, trying to fix her mistake.

"No!" Rachel shook her head, grabbing Quinn by the cheeks and bringing her closer until their foreheads rested together. "That's honestly the best thing you could have said, Quinn. I love you so much right now," she whispered, dropping a soft kiss on Quinn's lips. They pulled a part after a second, and Quinn felt almost shy for how adoringly Rachel looked at her. "Ettie. Little Henrietta. My mother would love that."

"That's a pretty name," Quinn whispered, closed up in a little world that was only theirs. "Ettie," she repeated, tasting the name on her lips.

"Do you really think so?" Rachel asked. "I want you to have a say in this. I don't want it to be _my_ baby, Quinn. I want it to be _ours_. You're here for me during this whole pregnancy, and I'm sure you're gonna love this baby as much as I will. It's only fair you help me pick a name. It's yours too."

"Is it?" Quinn asked with a shaky voice. She hated letting herself be so vulnerable, but she was learning that she had nothing to fear when it came to opening up to Rachel. "But what will the baby call me?" she asked, voice filled with uncertainty. The baby certainly couldn't call her mother, or else their whole relationship would end up exposed. They were already being risky enough as it was.

"It will call you Quinn, but that doesn't change anything. The way it calls you doesn't mean anything. What matters is the relationship you two will have. I mean, you call Judy _mother_ , but that doesn't mean what you feel for her runs deep."

"You're right," Quinn said with a nod. Rachel always managed to be right. If anyone had been a mother to her, it had been Mama Minda - and she didn't have a single droplet from the woman's blood in her veins. If Mama Minda could love her like a daughter, even more than her own mother, she definitely could do the same. She would love Rachel's baby like a mother, even if it didn't call her that way. In fact, she very likely already did. "What do you think it is, though?" Quinn asked with a small smirk. Rachel grinned.

"I don't know! We should ask it!" Rachel said, and Quinn frowned. "Baby, kick once if you're a girl and twice if you're a boy!" she said. Quinn placed her hands attentively to Rachel's belly, but nothing happened. Rachel fell in a delicious laugh, and Quinn wished she could save that moment and relive it over and over again. Everything felt in its right place. Everything felt right.

"Perhaps the baby hasn't decided yet what it's gonna be," Quinn replied with a shrug and the biggest smile hanging on her face.

"Well, while the baby decides I'm gonna go and get us breakfast," Rachel said, motioning to get up and letting out a small groan as she propped her weight in her arms. Quinn had noticed it had been harder and harder for Rachel to carry all that weight, and she knew it was time she did something about it.

"No," Quinn said, gently pulling Rachel's arm so that she would lay down on the pillows again. "Stay in here. Rest a little. I'll go ask for Lou Lee to prepare our breakfast, alright?" she said, already getting up from the bed and putting on a robe. Rachel smiled softly and nodded in relief, and Quinn left.

Rachel and that baby were hers. She always took care of what was hers.

* * *

_Basseterre, 1779_

* * *

"Mr. Fabray, dinner is served," said a servant appearing at the drawing room's door.

"Great! Thank you, Lucy," George replied, getting up to his feet. "Shall we feast?" he said playfully. Arabella and Quinn got up from their seats, and followed George to the dining room. Rachel walked in closely behind Quinn, and gently pulled the chair for Quinn to sit.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered with a small smile. It felt nice to be in a place where she thank Rachel without any worries or her mother's judgmental looks. Rachel nodded back with a smile and stood against the wall behind Quinn's seat.

"Rachel, please, have a seat with us," George said, sitting down and motioning to the empty chair by Quinn's side. Quinn shifted in her seat in surprise, and turned around to look back to Rachel. Rachel had her eyes wide open and shook her head quickly. Quinn didn't say anything. Rachel's eyes fluttered in Quinn's direction, waiting for a command. "Quinn, tell her to sit with us," George said. Quinn swallowed dryly. "It's alright, Quinn. Arabella knows everything and she's fine with it. There's no one else here."

George was right. It was okay. There was no one else to see them and nothing would happen. They would just have dinner as two couples. The realization that what might be stopping Quinn could be not the fear of being caught, but a fear derived from prejudice of assuming Rachel as her significant other made her shiver, and it pushed her to do something about it. She wasn't ashamed of Rachel. Rachel was beautiful, kind, took care of her more than anyone ever did, and most importantly - she loved Quinn. And Quinn was proud to call Rachel hers.

"Come here," she whispered with a smile, eyes locked with Rachel's as she pulled the chair just slightly. She didn't know why they always whispered to each other - it either could be so that they weren't heard or Quinn's way of making up for all the yelling and scolding she used to throw at Rachel's way. George smiled, and it was contagious. Arabella grinned, and Quinn smiled with a blush before realizing Rachel smiled too. Under the table, she intertwined her fingers with Rachel, and the simple brush of a thumb was the loudest thank you she had ever heard.

George didn't have any slaves. His servants were all paid for their work and they certainly didn't work as much as slaves did. Quinn watched as George stood up on his feet and served food to himself and Arabella. He handed the serving spoon to Quinn with a quirked eyebrow and she licked her lip at the realization she had never put food on to her own plate. Before she could do so, Rachel took the serving spoon and served both of them. Quinn watched everything quietly, but it was a different kind of silence. It wasn't like the silence in their meals back at Rose Hill where, without George and Russell to start conversation, Quinn and her mother dined in a thick silence that made Quinn lose appetite altogether and want to crawl back to her room. In George's house the silence was just the absence of noise as people filled their plates with a wholesome heartfelt meal, and it was comforting, somehow.

"Have you heard that Spain has declared war against England?" Arabella asked, cutting a piece of meat on her plate. George turned towards her and his mouth fell down in shock.

"Is that so? In support of America?" Quinn asked. This is the small talk she always dreamed of having. It wasn't about gentlemen or clothes or recipes - but about things that mattered in the world. She was surprised to realize Arabella had knowledge in that kind of matter - but she should have known better. George wouldn't settle for the futile girls her mother tried to force her to be friends with. Arabella nodded as she chewed on her food.

"Well, that changes everything. England is in great trouble being against France, Spain _and_ America. I hope this means the war is getting closer to an end. I fear for aunt Angeline, all alone in America," he said with a frown as he shook his head. Quinn instinctively turned towards Rachel, to see her reaction upon hearing the name of Quinn's aunt - but Rachel seemed to not have even listened. Quinn found Rachel concentrated on using her knife to cut the meat, and realized it was probably the first time Rachel had ever eaten in a dining table like that. She wasn't used to having so many options of cutlery at her disposal, and for a first timer she was doing incredibly well. She had always been observant and a fast learner. Quinn quietly rubbed her hand on Rachel's leg to get her attention and Rachel jumped slightly in startle, before turning to Quinn with a smile.

"About that," said Arabella, placing her cutlery on the edge of her plate and turning towards George with a grin before she went on. "We have something to tell you," she said. Quinn furrowed her brows and stopped chewing her food. "Rachel isn't the only one who's pregnant at this table," she whispered, and George's smile could light up the whole town. Quinn swallowed her food all at once and felt her throat burning.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, as her hands flung to her face. "That's great news! Congratulations!" Quinn said, reaching out her hand to grab Arabella's and George's for a second. Her heart raced. She never realized she could be so happy with another people's achievements.

"It will be a pleasure to have my child growing up with yours, Mr. George," Rachel said with watery eyes. Quinn wanted to pull her closer and drop a kiss on her cheek, but having Rachel at her side at the table was enough progress for a day. She didn't need to shock her brother, especially after he had been so nice for inviting Rachel.

"I'm certain they will be great friends, Rachel." George said with a smile and a nod. "Which reminds me- Arabella will be shopping for baby clothes later this week. You can come along if you like. It will be good for her to have some company, and it's more than time I give this baby a welcoming gift!" he said. Arabella nodded enthusiastically, and Quinn realized she hadn't thought about baby clothes. She simply assumed they still had some saved from when she was a child, but now it sounded silly to even consider that. It was just too long ago. She would make sure Rachel came to town to go shopping with Arabella, and she would make sure Rachel brought the money to their baby's clothes too. _Theirs_.

"I'm sorry, I'm still caught up on why the subject of my future niece or nephew came directly after you mentioned aunt Angeline?" Quinn asked with a nervous smile, suddenly remembering how quickly their subject had changed.

"Oh, not aunt Angeline, but America!" Arabella said, her voice filled with a happiness that made Quinn freeze in her seat and drop her hands on her sides. She wasn't sure she had understood well. Or at least she hoped she hadn't.

"We are thinking of moving to America once the baby is born," George said, confirming Quinn's worst fears. She wouldn't do it all over again. She wouldn't brat and cry and accuse him of leaving her - but what else was he doing? He must have felt the tension growing on her body, because he quickly started explaining himself. "We think America is more progressive than Saint Kitts is right now. We want our baby to grow up to a broader range of opportunities. I know America isn't perfect, but I would rather not have my child growing up in a society that treats important matters like slavery so naturally."

"But aunt Angeline has slaves too," Quinn replied with a nervous giggle. She didn't have the courage to look at Rachel and see what she thought of all of that.

"We wouldn't be moving in with her," Arabella said with a quick shake of her head. "We're thinking something norther. Perhaps New York. It would be amazing to have our children growing up among so much culture."

"But they're in the middle of a war! That is not a place to raise a child!" said Quinn, her voice coming more high pitched than she wanted to.

"It wouldn't be so bad to have our child learning first hand how to become a revolutionary. I don't think that's a bad thing at all," George said with a shrug. "Besides, we all know that war is bound to end soon. But that's not what matters right now. What we really wanted to talk about is the possibility of having you two come along," George said, and Quinn could swear everything in front of her went black. It was a miracle that she hadn't passed out right then and there.

"George, you know I can't," Quinn said with another nervous giggle as she shook her head. "I gotta stay and take care of the farm. I don't even have a way of making money in America."

"Dear sister, don't you know me at all?" he asked with a full laughter, and Quinn cracked her fingers nervously under the table. "I have thought of everything. We can hire someone to take care of the farm and send the money back to you in New York. I know a handful of people that would gladly do so, and I trust them to manage everything wisely. Just think of how amazing it would be! You two wouldn't have to be so afraid of being caught, you could just say you were cousins or something. No one will know us. Rachel could be free! Wouldn't you like moving, Rachel?" he asked.

Quinn felt hurt that he said those things in front of Rachel. It would put her in the most difficult position, and he knew it. But nothing hurt more than seeing Rachel unable to answer his question. She didn't have to say anything. Quinn knew for a fact this would be Rachel's dream come true. Still, the fact that Rachel didn't say so only proved her loyalty to Quinn. She didn't say so, because although she dreamed of being free, she knew Quinn had always dreamed of running the farm. In that moment, love filled Quinn's heart with an intensity that almost made her drop everything she had and take her brother's offer. But her brain always pulled her back.

"I will think about it. Okay?" she said. George nodded, but only Quinn knew her words were actually directed to Rachel. If she did so, it would be for them. For Rachel, and for their baby.

* * *

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"Where have you been all day?" Judy asked in a growl the second they stepped inside the house. A normal question a mother would ask out of worry - but Rachel knew better. Judy was never worried about Quinn. If anything, she was just curious. But by the tone of her voice, Rachel assumed there was something else.

"I went to Basseterre, to have dinner at George's place," Quinn answered nonchalantly as she walked inside. Rachel followed her. She didn't like to intrude on Quinn's conversations with her mother - especially since they always ended up fighting, which made Rachel uncomfortable. But she had nowhere else to go, and she hadn't been dismissed by Quinn. She walked quietly, trying to make herself invisible, but she could feel Judy's eyes of hate following her.

"Why did you take her?" Judy asked.

"She's my slave. She goes wherever I go," Quinn answered with a quirked up eyebrow. Rachel tensed up. She knew those two were just starting.

"She's a house slave. There was work to be done. Did you know Lou Lee was busy all day doing your laundry? I requested an apple pie at lunch and it still isn't ready, because everyone was busy doing what your slave should be doing!" Judy sneered. Rachel didn't know how Quinn could stay so calm with such an annoying voice filling her ears.

"Yes, I'm very aware of that, mother. I asked Lou Lee to take on some of Rachel's chores, since she's so close to giving birth," Quinn explained.

"You can't do that!" Judy scoffed, incredulous. "Lou Lee isn't yours!"

"Mother," Quinn said with a giggle, sitting down behind the desk at the library and resting her head on her hands. "All slaves are mine now. This whole farm is. I can't believe you forgot that," she said, condescendingly. Judy's face just about fell into the ground, and so did Rachel's. Quinn was never the most docile with her mother, but she was never so direct either.

"Well, then perhaps we should just sell this slave of yours!" Judy said in a squeal, like she just had the most brilliant idea. Rachel hated that Judy could talk about her like that, as if she wasn't in the room too. She wanted to get out of there, but Quinn wouldn't dismiss her. Maybe Quinn needed her there for support. "Yes! We could sell her well, since she's carrying another one in her womb! She's not being useful anyway, and things are looking ugly, we simply can't afford to have a slave sitting on her ass all day."

"You wouldn't know if things were looking ugly or not, mother. You never cared enough to get into business," Quinn said, opening the newspaper between the two of them. Rachel knew Quinn had already read that newspaper. She was acting strong, but she was nervous too. Rachel could feel.

"Still!" Judy said. "There's no reason for us to keep her, she only brings us problem! I don't know why you are suddenly so protective of this whore, is not like-" she couldn't finish her sentence. Quinn cut her short, jumping to her feet and slamming both her hands against the wooden desk. Judy jumped back in surprise. So did Rachel.

"She's not a whore mother, she was raped. _You_ are a whore," she said. Judy's face was drained of color, and she placed her hand against her chest as if it hurt too much to hear those words. Rachel wasn't sure which part of the conversation had surprised her most. She hadn't expected Quinn to stand up for her so fiercely. "Don't act like we all don't know you were never faithful to my father," she groaned, sitting back down."

"Oh, because you're hero father was just always so perfect and-" Judy said, but Quinn cut her short again. Rachel could see Judy's blood boiling beneath her skin.

"Mother, I don't have the time to discuss what an awful and sick relationship you two had," Quinn said. Rachel was still taken back in surprise. She had always knew the Fabrays were good actors, but seeing the amount of tears Judy shed at Russell's death - she could never have imagined it. She hadn't ever even heard rumors about Judy. But perhaps it was just one more of the so many forbidden subjects that household held. "Rachel's staying for good. I'm deciding what chores _my_ slaves will do. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things more important to do than to just listen to your _bullshit_ ," she said in a groan, getting up to leave the room and nodding for Rachel to follow her.

Rachel knew well what it meant. Quinn wasn't the one to curse - she only did so when her anger was at the top of her limits. And Rachel knew well how she liked to be calmed down.

* * *

Quinn laid her head back on the cold porcelain of the bathtub while Rachel massaged her scalp with the tip of her fingers, feeling the sweet smell of raspberry filling the room. Quinn closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

"Thank you for defending me," Rachel said in an almost whisper. Quinn felt a shiver running through her still sensitive body. Rachel's words were soft like a hug and the contrast with the words she had just heard, while they were locked alone in her room, was just one of her many favorite things about Rachel.

"She's ridiculous," Quinn rumbled. "It really makes me think harder about George's offer. I wouldn't mind at all to be an ocean away from her," she said. Rachel didn't say anything. It only made Quinn realize how much she wanted to move, too. Rachel talked a lot, but she wasn't precisely vocal about the things she wanted - well, not unless they were in bed.

"I had no idea she cheated on your father," Rachel said. Quinn nodded silently. It took a while for Quinn, at the age of six, to connect the dots and understand why her mother's friends only came to the house while her father was traveling. She had never talked about that with anyone. It was perhaps one of her greatest sources of insecurity growing up. If her father, who had always been perfect on her eyes, wasn't enough for her mother - how could she ever be?

"There's a lot you still don't know. This whole farm is stained with the worst stories," Quinn said with a sigh, lowering herself deeper into the water, as if it could wash away her memories. "I mean, my father wasn't an angel, but next to her…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"She was right about one thing, though," Rachel said, and Quinn furrowed her brows.

"What?" Quinn asked, turning around to be able to see Rachel's face.

"I _am_ being useless," Rachel said, and Quinn immediately started shaking her head. "No, I really am. It's been bothering me, too. I don't think it's fair to the other slaves, but most of all, I hate doing nothing all day!"

"What do you mean doing nothing?" Quinn asked with a smile. "You're helping me. You're giving me a bath right now!"

"Yes, but still! I feel anxious just sitting around all day while you work. It doesn't feel right. I'm feeling perfectly fine, there's no reason to have other people taking care of your laundry!" Rachel said. Quinn could almost swear she heard a hint of jealousy in Rachel's voice, and giggled to herself. "I'm serious!"

"I know you are! Sorry, dear," Quinn bit her lip to suppress her smile, and leaned forward to drop a peck on Rachel's lips. Water slipped from her hair and left a wet spot on Rachel's apron, but none of them cared enough to mention it. "I will talk to George and see what he thinks of it, alright? I'll try to find something for you to do during the day that won't tire you and that won't be prejudicial to the baby," Quinn said.

"Thank you," Rachel said with a shy smile that just made Quinn want to pull her closer to another kiss.

"Rachel, have you ever bathed in a tub?" Quinn asked. She often forgot Rachel hadn't grown up with the same privileges as her, and she damned herself every time she realized the so many things Rachel still did as a slave although she didn't have to. She didn't have to keep showering with bucket, and Quinn couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. Rachel shook her head shyly, answering her question. "Well, would you like to join me?"

She didn't have to ask twice.


	27. Chapter 27

_Rose Hill, 1779_

* * *

"I have a surprise for you," Quinn said with a grin, pulling an hesitant Rachel by the hand.

"Quinn, I hate surprises," she whined, trying to grab onto the walls to stop Quinn from pulling her. "What is it? Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Well, you know how you complained that you didn't like doing nothing all day?" Quinn asked, and Rachel nodded with a small frown. "I got you something to do," she said as they stopped by the library's door. "I've got you a tutor! Didn't you wanna learn how to read?"

"Quinn, that's- that's great!" Rachel said with a gasp of surprise. "But you didn't have to! You didn't have to spend your money on me, I know things aren't exactly well right now. Abbie could have taught me, she was a great teacher before we had to stop our lessons!"

"Rachel, shut up," Quinn said softly with a giggle as Rachel rambled. "You don't need to worry about the finances, I'll take care of that. Just let me give you things, alright? I like giving you things," she said with a small shrug, grabbing Rachel's hand. Quinn had gotten a lot more daring now that she was in charge of the farm, and she wasn't as discreet as she had once been. Rachel didn't complain at all.

"Alright," she said with a sigh of admiration. After what had happened when people found out she had been taught how to read, Rachel never thought she would have classes again. She had even forgotten about that dream. But Quinn didn't. Quinn knew what she wanted the most, even more than herself. "Thank you, Quinn."

"You're welcome," Quinn replied with a small roll of eyes and the most adoring smile on her face. "Now go get inside, tutors usually don't like to be kept waiting. I definitely learned that," she said with a giggle. "If you need anything I'll be at my office, alright?" Quinn said, and Rachel nodded. This would be the perfect moment for a small kiss before they parted their ways - but they weren't _so_ daring yet.

"You must be Rachel," said the tutor the second Rachel opened the door. He was tall and slim and wore round glasses at the tip of his nose. Rachel hadn't had the time to imagine what he would look like before she came in, but if she did, she would probably have imagined him exactly like he was. "Nice to meet you, I'm Alfred," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Nice to meet you too," she said shyly with a nod. He motioned to an armchair near a book full of tables, and Rachel sat down. She was excited, but she couldn't deny she felt somehow uncomfortable. It was not the kind of situation she was used to.

"I have made us an schedule with Ms. Fabray's help, and I would like to go through it with you before we start our classes, would that be alright with you?" he asked, and she nodded again. "On Mondays and Wednesdays we are gonna work on your reading. On Tuesdays we will have History and Mathematics. On Thursdays, we will work on your calligraphy. And on Fridays, dancing lessons. How does that sound?" he asked, and Rachel couldn't answer. All her words had disappeared at the realization that Quinn wouldn't only teach her how to read, but give her a full proper education. "Ms. Fabray said you could trade the dancing classes for painting lessons, if you'd prefer," said Alfred, upon her silence.

"No!" she intervened, a little bit too loud. "I mean, no. It's just perfect like it is. Thank you so much," she said, biting her lip nervously.

"Oh, you don't need to thank me, I'm just doing my job. You should thank your mistress, which, by the way, might be the kindest one to ever exist. I have never seen a master or mistress doing anything like this for a slave. You're a very lucky girl, Rachel," he said.

"I know," Rachel replied with a small smile and a nod. "She's the best."

* * *

"Miss Quinn, your guest is here," Lou Lee said, stopping the office's door.

"Thank you, Lou, you can tell him to come inside, please," Quinn replied, getting up on her feet and walking towards the door.

"Hello, Quinn," said a very big man as he walked inside the office, taking Quinn's hands on his and dropping a kiss on the back of her palm. "I'm Lewis. We have met before, but you probably won't remember it because you were just a tiny little girl back then."

"I certainly don't, but it's a pleasure to see you again," she said, pulling her hand back and walking back to her chair, motioning for him to sit across her desk. Behind the table, she wiped her hand clean on her gown. She hated when men kissed her hands.

"I assumed so. It's harder for us to forget you, with your looks. You've certainly managed to become even more beautiful now that you've grown," he said. Quinn also hated to receive compliments from strangers, and always replied with a sheepish smile. She wanted to trust him. He was a friend of George's and he could potentially help her run the farm, if things went right. She had to trust him.

"Shall we get into business?" she said, grabbing a stack of paper from the bottom drawer and handing it to him. "Here you have the records of our production, from the very beginning in 1752 until our last crop. I have been reading and studying those numbers for weeks now, trying to understand what is happening and why things suddenly got so worse, but I don't seem to get to a conclusion."

"Wow," he said, furrowing his eyebrows and forcing his eyes as he went through the papers. "You had an amazing year in 1763. 7,000 tons! I have never seen such a big production, I'm very impressed!"

"I know," Quinn nodded. "It was the biggest production in the island. It might still be, even now. But you see, the numbers started dropping after that. It wasn't anything big, so we didn't worry about it. We were still selling well and getting a lot of money. But then, here," she said, pointing to a particular piece of paper. "1775. The production dropped to 3,000 tons. That's less than half of our biggest one. And it keeps dropping from then on. If we get to 1,000 ton this year I'll be surprised. I have no idea what happened, because we didn't change anything! It doesn't make any sense!"

"In fact, that's your problem right there," he said, and Quinn frowned. She didn't know what he meant. "The last years have been drier than average. We're not getting as much rain as we should be. Saint Domingue's production rose to the top this year, because the Frenchs invested in a very modern irrigation system."

"Well, that's easy then! We just have to do the same, right?" she asked, clinging tightly onto hope.

"No, not that easy. We still don't know precisely how it works, and as you may figure, the French aren't exactly willing to tell us. Especially now, with the war," he said. Quinn nodded. "But that's not your only problem. Besides that, we have the fact that sugar plantations are spreading around the world. Everyone wanted to benefit from the high demand, but that backfired. Now that there are many options from which to buy, Europe is able negotiate between the different farms and get a cheaper price."

That definitely would explain why their finances were dropping at very faster rate than the production. Quinn had spent nights and nights awake trying to figure it out, and it all sounded just so obvious now. She felt her feet getting cold in anxiety.

"But now, your biggest problem," he said. Quinn had thought he was done, but he went on. She was starting to feel lightheaded. Among the so many problems, she couldn't see any light. "Sugarcane exhausts the soil. It drains all the nutrients from the soil, and after a few crops it makes the soil simply too poor to grow anything on it. The smart way to avoid that would be to plant something else between sugarcane crops, but most farmers were just too awestruck with the amount of money sugar brought to even think of that. And now, I'm afraid it's too late."

"Well, what can we do, then?" Quinn asked, trying to hide the quivering of fear in her voice. They couldn't be doomed. That farm had been her father's dream. It couldn't be over so quickly. She needed to think of a way out of the mess they found themselves in. She had a child in the way, for God's sake. She needed to find a way of getting money back to that farm as soon as possible.

"There is one thing that you can do that will bring you money relatively fast. It's the only guaranteed way out of this crisis, because sugar just isn't gonna be viable anymore for you. You could start thinking of starting a new plantation, with different crops, but you would need a lot of money for that. Which leaves us with only one option, and I'm not exactly sure you will approve it," he said, lowering his voice. Her stomach sank. She had no idea what he would propose, but she had a bad feeling about it. A bad feeling that grew worse when she realized that regardless if she approved it or not, she didn't have any option.

"Tell me," she said. He smiled.

* * *

Rachel sat on the library, practicing her reading after her first lesson when Judy walked in. Judy gasped in surprise, to see Rachel so casually sitting in one of their chairs. Rachel considered to get up to her feet at the very same second she noticed Judy coming in - but her belly just made it impossible. It was too big to allow any sudden movements. Rachel sighed and closed her eyes, waiting to hear the scolding from Judy. But it never came.

"You know, I lost my first child because of a slave," Judy said, leaning against the door frame.

For a second, Rachel thought perhaps Judy was talking to someone else - but they were alone. Rachel frowned and set her book on the nearby table. Although she had noticed Judy's behavior changing after Quinn put her in her place, she had no idea why Judy was talking to her. It scared her that she had no way of running away if she needed to. Not with that belly. The belly. Rachel's hand rest protectively over it. Rachel didn't say anything, but Judy went on anyway.

"I was pregnant with Quinn. It was early on. I had a lot of cramps way before I should, and it scared the doctors. I was put on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy and I couldn't even get up for baths," she said. Rachel shivered. She knew she didn't have it bad, but hearing what could have happened to her made her understand why Quinn was so protective of her. "Frannie kept asking me if I would take her to the beach. We were having an unbelievable hot summer that year. I would have loved to have gone to the beach with her - but I couldn't. So she went with a slave."

The spiteful way Judy said the word slave made Rachel's stomach twist. She didn't need to hear the rest of the story. She could imagine how it had went. She knew Judy wasn't worth of her pity, but still, the mere thought of losing her child - the one she hadn't even met yet! - sounded like the most terrifying nightmare. However, it didn't excuse any of Judy's later actions. Rachel just wanted to get out of that room, but again, she couldn't.

"That was Russell's mistake - he always trusted slaves. Frannie never came back. The slave said she drowned, but I'm sure she didn't. That slave killed her to get back at me, because I was the only one firm enough to give slaves their punishments back then," she said, taking in a deep breath before going on. Rachel could almost swear she saw a tear glistening in Judy's eyes, but she wiped it before Rachel could be sure. "I never got to see her tiny body again. I never even got the chance to bury her. I don't even remember if I said goodbye before she left for the beach, because I was curled up in bed with hurtful cramps," Judy said.

"But Frannie may have drowned. There's no way you'll ever know," Rachel said. It sounded unfair that Judy said with such certainty that a slave had killed her daughter. "Besides, even if she did, you can't blame all slaves for a single one's mistake," she said. She had no idea where she had gathered the courage to talk so openly to Judy, but once she started talking, the words just slipped out of her mouth.

"Oh, I don't blame the slave - although I did kill her. Slaves are dumb. She might have killed my daughter or not, but nothing would have happened if I were the one at the beach with my daughter. I blame Quinn," she said. Rachel felt a tug in her heart. She wanted to stand up for Quinn, like Quinn had done for her before, but Judy interrupted her before she could even start. "If it weren't for Quinn, I would be there. But that's not the point. The point is I lost my first child because of a slave, and it's happening again. I'm gonna lose Quinn because of you," she said.

"Quinn was never yours," Rachel said. It was all she could gather. Judy wasn't wrong. If things worked out the way Rachel wanted them to, they would soon enough be moving abroad and away from Judy. She wouldn't kill Quinn, but she would take her away from her mother. And she knew it was the best thing she could do for Quinn.

"You're right. She wasn't. I never wanted her. I was plenty happy with my two babies. A boy and a girl. That's every woman's dream. But Russell knew from the very beginning that George would never take over the farm. He just never had the hand for it. And Frannie," she said with a small hurtful chuckle. "I had bigger plans for Frannie. I wouldn't let her stay here. So Russell wanted another child. When Frannie died, he kept saying we were getting another girl to replace her. I kept praying we wouldn't. That God wouldn't do that to me. But He did."

It was unconceivable for Rachel to understand Judy. She simply couldn't get how she could even talk like that. Rachel hadn't ever touched her baby, and she already loved the tiny thing more than her own life. It hurt her to hear Judy talk about Quinn like that. It made her want to run away and wrap her Quinn in her arms and tell her how loved she was. It made her want to grab Quinn and run away the fastest and the further they could away from Judy.

"Quinn was Russell's from the start. I could never love her. But still, I know Russell did. I don't care about Quinn and whatever it is that she decides to do with her life," she said. Rachel swallowed dryly. It was almost as if Judy knew about them. It scared Rachel to death. "I don't care about Quinn, but I care about this farm. It was Russell's legacy, and although we had our problems, he was my husband. I have to honor him. I have to make sure this farm thrives - but you're gonna ruin it, you two. Quinn ruins everything from the second she was born. This house was never the same after her. Not even the roses bloom anymore."

"I'm sorry for you, Judy," Rachel said, a hush of courage running through her veins. "I'm very sorry for you because you were so caught up in your resentments that you never had the chance to even meet Quinn. To really get to know your child. And that's your loss, because you're missing out on knowing one of the most wonderful person in this world. But you know what, it doesn't matter. She turned out fine, even without you. And she's gonna save this farm because it is hers, and not become she _owns_ you anything."

"You know, I could kill you for that," Judy said with a gasp, taking a step forward and towards Rachel. Rachel's spine ran cold, but she kept a straight face.

"You sure could," she said with a nod. "But even if you did, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't make you happy. Even if you killed me, you'd never get one shred of the happiness I have. You're just doomed to spend the whole rest of your life alone in your misery."

Again, Rachel waited - although she didn't know what for. She expected anything. She expected anything but that Judy would turn around and leave the room without saying anything else.

* * *

When Rachel walked inside Quinn's bedroom, she found Lou Lee kneeled on the ground in front of Quinn untying the laces of her shoes. Quinn jumped in startle as the door opened, and Rachel bit her lip to suppress a smile.

"Oh, so that's why you're keeping me busy all day! You're having an affair with Lou!" she said, doing her best to keep a straight face as she said so. Lou Lee's eyes shot wide open and she shook her head quickly, taking a few steps back and away from Quinn but tumbling against a chair and falling on to the ground. Quinn didn't look any less scared, and Rachel couldn't hold her laughter any longer. "I'm only joking," she said with a giggle. Quinn sighed deeply and sat on her chair with a hand covering her face.

"God dammit," she whispered to herself. "You almost killed me here. I had no idea how I would be able to prove you that there was nothing between Lou Lee and me." Rachel and Lou Lee chuckled for a few more seconds, and Quinn was finally able to let out a small giggle as she rolled her eyes. "You're dismissed, Lou Lee. Thank you for your help," Quinn said, and Lou Lee left, leaving them alone.

Rachel walked towards her and sat on Quinn's lap. She wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and stayed there, quietly admiring Quinn with the most devoted smile on her face as she digested everything she had been told. At first, Quinn stared back at her, smiling just as big. But as Rachel wouldn't even blink, Quinn started to feel shy and looked down before placing her hands to cover Rachel's eyes and avoid the gaze.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Quinn asked, burying her face on Rachel's neck to hide herself, and dropping a kiss there.

"Just because," Rachel answered with a shrug. "Hey," she said, trying to get back Quinn's attention. Quinn looked up hesitantly with a shy smile. "Thank you," Rachel murmured, leaning in for a peck in Quinn's lips.

"For the classes?" Quinn asked with a small huff when she pulled away from the kiss. Rachel missed her lips instantly. She only noticed how long a day had been when they met again at night and she realized how much she had missed Quinn. "You already thanked me for that," she said.

"No," Rachel replied, shaking her head. Quinn frowned in confusion. Rachel decided to not let Quinn know about her conversation with Judy. She knew Quinn would be upset, even though she claimed not to feel a thing for her mother. Rachel knew she still craved for approval, even if only unconsciously. "For being who you are. You're amazing and you've grown so much since we met. You are so strong and you became such a kind and caring woman, even with everything life threw your way. I love you so very much," she whispered, pampering kisses all over Quinn's face.

Quinn rolled her eyes again. She didn't know how to deal with compliments. She never received any truthful ones - before Rachel came along, they only ever concerned her appearance. But deep down, Rachel knew she was happy to hear them. She was flattered.

"You are the best gift I ever got," Quinn replied with a small shake of her head. Rachel smiled and nodded. Quinn's words rubbed her the wrong way. It was at perfect moments like those when Rachel almost let herself forget she was a slave. But it was in sentences like that, that Rachel remembered that regardless of how much they loved each other, at the end of the day that was still all she was.

Quinn's property.


	28. Chapter 28

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

Quinn had been buried in her office with Lewis all day and had already missed lunch. Days like those were becoming more and more frequent, and Rachel worried about Quinn. She was often stressed and exhausted when she came out, and she never talked to Rachel about business, like she used to before. When it was past dinner time and Quinn hadn't yet come out, Rachel decided to take something for Quinn and Lewis to eat.

Abbie prepared the food, and although Lou Lee had been the responsible for that kind of chore lately, Rachel decided to bring the tray herself. She supported the tray between the door and her belly carefully and reached out to knock on the door. In the seconds before she could do so, she was close enough to overhear the conversation that went on inside - and it made her swallow hard.

"They're just slaves, Quinn," Lewis said.

"I know," Quinn replied.

Rachel felt something on the pit of her stomach, but the second the knock on the door was heard, the conversation happening inside stopped.

"Who is it?" Quinn asked.

"It's Rachel," she said with a quivering voice. She regretted coming there, but at that moment her curiosity was spiked and she just had to know what they were talking about. "I've brought you some tea and biscuits."

"Come on in," Quinn said, and Rachel did so.

Quinn pointed to a small table on the corner, but never met Rachel's eyes. Her silence also bothered Rachel. The air in that room felt heavy and although Rachel felt uncomfortable there, she took her time organizing the plates and teacups on the table to see if they would start talking again and she would have a clue of what was going on.

"You may leave now," Quinn said. Rachel felt the air becoming even heavier. It had been a long time since Quinn had last treated her so coldly. It had been a long time since she did something for Quinn and didn't receive a thank you in return. She knew Quinn must have been stressed about the full day of work, but Rachel knew it wasn't just that. She had a bad feeling that just wouldn't go away, and she was rarely wrong about it.

"I'm gonna feed the fire first-" Rachel tried to say, but Quinn cut her short.

"The fire is satisfactory. Leave us," Quinn said firmly.

Rachel turned around quickly with her mouth hanging slightly open in shock, but Quinn avoided her eyes on purpose. Rachel had no idea what had been happening in that room all day, but she hated what it had done to Quinn. She left the room quickly, trying to hold back the tears that prickled in her eyes. She tried to make up excuses for herself, saying it was just the pregnancy making her too sensitive. But deep down, she knew better.

* * *

"Hey," Quinn said late at night, when she walked inside the room. Rachel was so tired and Quinn's voice sounded so soft, that she almost gave up on everything and let herself melt inside Quinn's arms. But she couldn't. She needed to stand up for herself. She wouldn't let Quinn treat her like that, not after everything and especially not now that she owned the farm and had no excuses of being pressured by other people, like before. "I've missed you," Quinn whispered near her ear, as Rachel pulled back the covers from the bed for Quinn to lay down.

"Did you?" Rachel said with an ironic scoff. "It sure didn't seem so," she groaned under her breath. Quinn must have felt her tension, because she took a step back immediately. Rachel thanked quietly, because only she knew how hard it was to control herself with Quinn so close behind her back.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked, and Rachel scoffed again. It couldn't be that Quinn hadn't realized the way she had treated Rachel before. Rachel simply couldn't let it slip away by justifying to herself that it hadn't been on purpose. She couldn't let Quinn get away with it by just pretending anything happened. She had done that enough in the past.

"Please, Quinn," Rachel said with a shake of her head, fluffing up the pillows with a little more strength then it was necessary. Quinn stepped around her and sat on Rachel's side of the bed. Not that Rachel even intended to sleep there that night.

"Come on, Rach," Quinn whispered, trying to grab Rachel's hand. Rachel winced it back. Quinn looked genuinely hurt by her reaction and Rachel wanted to shoot her own heart for having so many controversial feelings. "Don't do that to me," she said, looking down to her hands.

"Don't do that you? Are you really serious, Quinn?" Rachel asked with an incredulous chuckle, shaking her head as she walked towards the dressing room - but Quinn grabbed her by the arm to stop her. It wasn't a strong grip and it didn't hurt her, but she hated it. It only reminded her of how ultimately, her will didn't mean anything as long as she was a slave.

"Talk to me," Quinn said, placing one hand gently on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel sighed. She didn't want to discuss. She just wanted the whole afternoon to never have happened. She only wanted Russell to come back alive so that Quinn wouldn't have to work so much anymore. So that she could have her Quinn back. "I don't want you to be mad. I need you to tell me how you're feeling, what you're thinking."

"Fine," Rachel spat, walking away from her and sitting down by the fire. Her belly felt heavier than ever and the small tugs at the pit of her stomach didn't seem to go away. "Why did you treat me like that when I walked into your office today? Why did you stop taking when I was there? Why were you so eager for me to leave? Why do you never talk about business with me anymore? What are you _hiding_ from me?" She hated to feel like she was rambling, but once the first question came out of her mouth the other ones just slipped away.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispered, and Rachel didn't know why, but she didn't quite believe it this time. "I was just nervous, Lewis was pressuring me into making a big decision. We're gonna have to change the way the whole farm works, because apparently we won't be able to produce sugar anymore. I just didn't want to worry you about all our problems, you know, since you're pregnant and everything." But Rachel shook her head. "What?" Quinn asked, looking surprised that Rachel hadn't simply bought her words.

"Something doesn't feel right," Rachel said with a small shrug. Quinn sighed and looked up to the ceiling. "You're lying to me, which is probably why you can't even look me in the eyes as you say so."

"Why can't you trust me?" Quinn asked, taking a step forward. Rachel rose to her feet and took a step back, but the tug in her stomach felt stronger and she had to hold herself onto the chair to make sure her body wouldn't curve forward to suppress the dull pain.

"Why am I still a slave, Quinn?" she asked. Quinn was drained of all color. It was the one reason that still made Rachel doubt Quinn. Quinn had changed absurdly, and proved it to Rachel everyday - but still. She wouldn't give Rachel what she wanted the most. "Your father isn't around anymore. There's no one to judge you or stop you from giving me my freedom."

Quinn stood still with the most terrified look, but didn't say a word. Rachel sucked her lips in, to avoid them from quivering and showing Quinn how hard she was trying to stop herself from crying, and nodded. Quinn still didn't say anything. Rachel took another step towards the dressing room, and heard the biggest splash sound as she felt water running down her legs. Her heart stopped.

"Oh my God, your water broke!" Quinn squealed, running towards Rachel and grabbing her both arms to give her support. Rachel's eyes were wide open and shock, but she was paralyzed. All of their discussion vanished away from her mind and she gripped tightly onto Quinn's arms. Their baby was coming. "What do I do?" Quinn asked. Rachel felt Quinn's body shaking, and it only made her more nervous. She had no idea what to do either.

"Go call Abbie and Dorea! They'll know what to do," Rachel said, twisting her face in pain. Suddenly she understood what the tugs in her stomach were all about, and felt the dumbest for not realizing it sooner. Quinn pulled her arms free from Rachel's grip and ran out of the door in a blink, leaving Rachel there alone. Rachel took a step back and sat back down on the chair by the fire. Her gown was soaked, but she was paralyzed by fear. She couldn't move. She could barely process her own thoughts inside her head.

Their baby was coming.

* * *

"Abbigail!" Quinn yelled as she rushed in the kitchen house breathless. "Rachel's water broke! We need your help!"

"Oh dear Lord, that's wonderful!" Abbie dropped the pan she had been washing, spilling water all over the floor - but they were all too excited to care. She quickly cleaned her hands on her apron and took it off, hanging it on a chair nearby. "Where is she?" she asked.

"Upstairs in my room," Quinn answered, her feet tapping on the ground anxiously. "Lou Lee, can you ask your mother to come too? Rachel asked for her. And please, tell Hank to run to Basseterre right now and fetch George!" she said. Lou Lee nodded vigorously, with the biggest smile hanging on her face.

"Alright, let's go then!" Abbie said with a grin, holding the door opened for Quinn to walk by. "Lou, ask Dorea to bring everything we need. She will know what to bring."

Lou Lee nodded again and ran out of the kitchen house. Abbie and Quinn followed shortly behind and were back in the room in a matter of seconds. Quinn felt sweat dripping down her back and didn't know if it was due to all the running or out of anxiety. They opened the door to find Rachel curling up on the small chair by the fire, groaning loudly and with her eyes shut tightly.

"She's having contractions already! That's great!" Abbie said. Quinn nodded. She had no idea what it meant, but it sure didn't look _great_. She rushed to Rachel's side and placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, but it didn't seem to help at all. She didn't know what she could do. "Here, take this watch Quinn. We need to time her contractions." Quinn nodded again.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! This hurts too bad, Abbie!" Rachel whined when the contraction went away.

"It's alright dear, it's only pain and it's only temporary. Think of the beautiful baby you will have by the end of this, okay?" Abbie said, with the most soothing voice. Rachel nodded with a precious pout in her mouth. Quinn dropped a kiss at the top of her head, and Rachel turned to her with a small nervous smile. Quinn smiled back. She hated to see Rachel in pain. She would trade it to be in Rachel's place without a second thought if she could do so. But she couldn't, and Rachel was strong. She could do it. "Perhaps we should try to walk to the kitchen house, so that you can lay down if you want it."

"She can lay down here," Quinn said, darting to the bed. She started to pull the covers all the way off and threw them to the floor.

"Are you sure, miss Quinn? It can get quite messy," Abbie said. "Besides, it can be good for her to walk. It can make things go faster."

"No, I'm sure. She'll be more comfortable here," Quinn said, walking back to Rachel's side and giving her arm for support. "Can you walk to the bed?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," Rachel said with a nod, getting up with Quinn's help. "It's not really hurting right now."

"That's how it goes. You'll have a flash of pain for a few seconds and then go without pain for a small interval. The shorter the intervals get, the closer we are to meeting this baby!" Abbie said, and Quinn nodded. She remembered hearing something like that in one of her science classes, but she never really paid attention to those. "We probably still have a long way to go, so you should try to get comfortable. It would be good to get some sleep on those intervals too, so that you have all the strength you need when the time really comes," Abbie suggested. Quinn laughed nervously. As if someone could sleep while all of that happened.

"Do you want more pillows? I can get you more pillows," Quinn said, making a little nest of pillows all around Rachel and sweeping her hair out of her forehead.

"I'm okay, I guess," Rachel whispered, leaning back on the pillows and sighing heavily.

"Do you need some water? Something to eat?" Quinn asked. Rachel shook her head and Abbie patted Quinn's shoulder, in an attempt to make her calmer so that Rachel could rest. "I wanna help," Quinn whined. "How can I help?"

"Right now there's not much we can do but wait," Abbie said. "You're already helping by tracking the time, remember?"

Quinn nodded and grabbed Rachel's hand tightly. Rachel smiled at her and dropped a kiss at their intertwined hands. Quinn should be the one supporting Rachel, not the other way around - but she didn't complain at all.

Not much time later, Dorea arrived carrying a tall pile of clean towels and a water bucket. Rachel went through contractions gripping tighter onto Quinn's hands, but the intervals were still fairly long. Rachel managed to get some rest in between contractions, but Quinn couldn't even blink while sitting by her side. When George arrived, a couple of hours later, things finally seemed to be progressing.

"Oh God, another one," Rachel said, closing her eyes tightly and breathing heavily.

"Four minutes!" Quinn yelled to Abbie.

"How is everything going?" George asked rhetorically, opening up his bag and placing a few tools in the small bed side table. Quinn greeted him quietly with her hand and he waved back. None of them talked until Rachel's contraction had passed.

"Thank you for coming," Rachel whispered breathless when it was gone.

"How are you feeling, dear?" George asked with a small nod.

"In pain," she groaned. Everyone but Quinn giggled. Everyone seemed so calm and Quinn had no idea how they did it. "How much longer will it take?" Rachel asked.

"We can't know for sure. It shouldn't take too much longer though. You'll know when it's time to start pushing," George said, sitting at the edge of the bed. Abbie took a step back, giving him space to work, but he protested. "Where are you going? I hope you're not thinking of leaving me alone here. I'm fairly sure you have way more experience with labors than I do," he said. Abbie smiled, flattered. Quinn smiled, proudly.

"Do you want to try changing positions Rachel? Maybe lie on your side, so I can apply some pressure on your back when the contraction comes. Some people say it helps," Abbie said. Her tone of voice was much lower since George arrived. She was shy around him, although he tried to let everyone in the room comfortable.

Rachel followed Abbie's instructions and actually seemed to endure the contractions better as Abbie pressed her hands against Rachel's back. Quinn even tried to learn how to do it, but when Rachel screamed in pain she quickly removed her hands and let Abbie get back to it. The noise must have woke up Judy, who opened the door with a heavy frown.

"What is going on in here?" she asked, looking around to realize even George was in the bedroom.

"Rachel is in labor," Quinn answered without even looking at her.

"On those sheets?!" she yelled, her mouth falling half-opened. "Quinn, those sheets cost a small fortune! Get her out of there this minute!"

"Oh, no, not right now, mother. I am _not_ in the mood for you. Get out of here!" Quinn said with a scoff and a shake of her head. Her mother stood by the door in shock. "Go!" Quinn screamed and Judy shook her head with a huff before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"I feel like pushing," Rachel murmured, sitting up and leaning against the bed frame. Quinn's eyes went wide. Abbie pulled Rachel's gown up and placed a sheet on top of her legs. Dorea brought the towels, handing one of them to George and placing the bucket of water near the bed.

"Alright dear, let's go then. I'm gonna count to three, alright? One, two, three… Push! Now, dear! With all your strength!" said Abbie. Everyone in the room seemed frozen as Rachel leaned forward with her eyes closed tightly. She groaned loudly and Quinn bit her tongue nervously.

Rachel pushed a few more times, but nothing happened. Abbie dipped her hand on water and moistened Rachel to see if it would help.

"Rachel, you're not using all your strength. Stop holding back, come on. It's not the time for that. We know you can do it, come on!" Abbie said firmly. Quinn was about to stand up and defend Rachel, but she had no idea what was happening. Abbie knew better. She was glad Rachel interrupted her before she could say something in the spur of the moment.

"I can't, it hurts too bad! It _burns_!" Rachel cried out, and Quinn wiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb.

"George, come on!" said Quinn. "Don't you have anything in this bag of yours to help her with the pain?" He seemed hesitant. Quinn glared furiously at him, pushing him to answer.

"I have some chloroform. It's used sometimes to help with the pain during labor, but the side effects-"

"I don't care what the side effects are, just give me some of that!" Rachel whined, shaking her head.

"Rachel, you could pass out. You wouldn't see your baby being born!" he said.

"Give me it!" she said in a scream that startled Quinn. George looked over at Quinn to see if he got her permission, but she only shrugged. She wouldn't be the one to disagree with Rachel. Not at that moment, when she had no idea the amount of pain Rachel was going through.

"Alright," he said, wetting a towel with the smelly liquid. He walked over near Rachel and handed her the towel. "Breathe in this before you push, alright? But come on, make this fast now. All your strength, Rachel!" he urged, and Rachel nodded, burying her face in the towel before starting to groan loudly again.

"Yes, Rachel, just like that! Keep it going! It's crowning!" Abbie said with an excited squeal. "Oh Lord, it has so much hair! Come see it, miss Quinn!" she said. Quinn shook her head. She was indeed curious, but she couldn't leave Rachel's side. Rachel gripped her hand tighter, and inhaled deeply into the towel before pushing again. "The head is out! Come on, Rach! Take a deep breath and give me one more push! One more and your baby will be here!"

Rachel seemed to be in another dimension. Her eyes were closed and it was almost like her body worked on its own. Her loud scream died suddenly, being replaced with a soft, sweet cry that filled Quinn's heart. She would never in her life forget that sound. Abbie passed the baby onto Dorea's arms, and Dorea quickly wrapped it with a towel and gently rubbed the baby's face clean before bringing it close to Rachel.

"What is it?" Rachel asked in a whisper, with her eyes still closed. Quinn had the biggest, most foolish smile hanging on her face. She was in love - with both Rachel and the baby.

"It's a boy!" sang-song Abbie. Quinn's smile grew bigger.

"He's beautiful, Rachel," Quinn whispered. Rachel nodded, without opening her eyes, and breathed out heavily before staying still. Quinn looked around nervously, but no one seemed to share the feeling. "Rachel?" she asked, but Rachel didn't answer. "What is happening? Is it the medicine?"

"It can be. Or maybe she's just tired," George said with a small shrug. "She shouldn't be out for too long, let's give her a minute. Now let me meet this gorgeous boy," he said, walking to the other side of the bed, near Dorea.

"Would you like to hold him, miss Quinn?" Dorea asked.

"Me?" Quinn asked in startle. She wasn't sure she could. She was terrified of dropping him. Hurting him. He was too precious. But she nodded. She wanted. Dorea passed the baby onto her arms, and George stopped by her side to take a look at it. The baby stopped crying and squirming like magic. Like he recognized Quinn. "He looks adorable. Why is his face smashed like that?" she asked with a small giggle.

"Well, Rachel's belly isn't the most spacious housing. He was probably pressed against her. It should come back to normal in a couple days," George said, gently running the tip of a finger through the baby's hair. It was dark and straight, just like Rachel's.

Quinn tried to find more similarities between Rachel and the baby, but she couldn't. Aside from the hair, they looked completely different. Quinn had been afraid of that the whole pregnancy - that the baby would resemble its father and remind her everyday of what Rachel had gone through. But it didn't. The baby didn't look like Rachel, but it was okay. It was her baby, and she loved it from the very first cry. Quinn studied every single aspect of the tiny person in her arms. His little eyes closed in a straight line. His teeny tiny ears. His little tongue poking out now and then. He felt so soft in her arms. So vulnerable. She knew right then, she would give her life to protect him.

Rachel opened her eyes for a few seconds, murmuring she needed water. Abbie promptly gave her some, and she went back asleep again. Quinn was less nervous after she saw Rachel shifting in bed to lay more comfortably. It made sense that Rachel was tired after so many hours of pain. Quinn was tired herself - but it all seemed to go away now that she held the baby in her arms. George excused himself to go to sleep, and so did Abbie. Dorea offered to help Quinn put some clothes on the baby, and she accepted it promptly.

They walked in to the nursery. It hadn't been used since Quinn was born, but she had already made sure to get it cleaned up and filled with the baby's tiny clothes beforehand. Quinn picked a dark blue knit jumpsuit. Dorea showed her how to wrap the cloth diaper around the tiny legs. Quinn tried not to laugh about how ironic it was that the first penis she had ever seen belonged to her baby.

In a matter of minutes, the baby was all ready and wrapped up in a blanket. Quinn brushed his hair all to one side, making him look just like a tiny man. She grabbed him back in her arms and felt her whole body melting as he snuggled against her body. He blinked his eyes wide opened and moved his head from one side to the other, pushing his tongue outside. Quinn giggled.

"He needs to be fed, miss Quinn. He's looking for Rachel," Dorea said in a murmur. Quinn bit down her lip.

"Rachel is asleep," she stated the obvious.

"Do you want me to go fetch someone who can feed him?" Dorea asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't know if Rachel would be okay with that," Quinn pondered, looking down at the baby. He wasn't crying, but he sure wasn't happy and calm. Quinn didn't want to wake up Rachel, but she couldn't leave the baby to starve either. Dorea gave her the look that said the baby wouldn't wait, and Quinn sighed. "Alright. Do you think Lou Lee could do it? She had a baby recently. I think Rachel would feel better knowing it was her," Quinn shrugged. It felt like a big thing to ask someone.

"I'm sure she will be honored, miss Quinn," Dorea said, reaching out her arms to grab the baby. Quinn frowned. She wasn't ready to let go of him, but she knew there was no other option. "I'll bring him right back once he's done," Dorea said.

"Okay," Quinn said with a nod. "Don't take too long. I'm gonna be in my room, I'm going to check on Rachel," she said. Dorea nodded, and they went on their ways. Quinn's heart felt tight, letting Dorea go with the baby. Letting a slave go with her baby. She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of it. She knew she was being absurd and just reproducing the story she had heard her mother tell over and over. But it was different. She was different. She trusted Dorea. She trusted her slaves.

* * *

When Rachel woke up, it was already morning. Quinn sat by the fire with the baby in her arms, gently rocking him to sleep. He was finally calm and content, and Quinn just couldn't stop looking at him. She felt like her heart was ready to burst with love. She wondered how was it so that she could love so much a baby that, in theory, had nothing to do with her - while her mother couldn't love her, a baby she had carried.

"How long was I gone for?" Rachel asked, rubbing her eyes and bringing Quinn back from her thoughts. She reached her arms out and Quinn walked towards her, sitting by her side on the bed.

"A few hours," Quinn answered, handing the baby to Rachel's arms. Rachel smiled softly and Quinn watched it as she fell in love with her son. If Quinn had loved Rachel before, her love had more than doubled now. "It's alright though. I took care of this little man," Quinn said playfully, poking his flat nose. "Lou Lee fed him," she confessed. "I hope you don't mind. He was really hungry and you wouldn't wake up."

"It's okay," Rachel said in a whisper, leaning her head onto Quinn's shoulder and grabbing the baby's tiny hand in hers. "I was actually thinking of talking to you about that. I wanted to know if it would be okay for Lou Lee to feed him everyday, so that I could go back to work already. I really can't stand to do nothing any longer," she said.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, if Lou Lee is okay with it, I don't mind. It's your choice," Quinn said with a shrug. "But don't feel pressured. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to just take a little time to enjoy him. I certainly wish I could do the same," she said with a giggle, caressing his cheek. "Isn't he adorable?" she asked.

"He is," Rachel said with an adoring smile. "I'm glad you think so," she whispered to Quinn. Quinn turned her face slightly and kissed the top of Rachel's head. "Why does his face look so funny?" Rachel asked with a scrunched up nose. Quinn giggled again.

"George said it was probably because he was all smashed in your belly," said Quinn. "It should be better in a few days," she said. Rachel nodded and kissed his tiny hand.

"I can't believe he's mine," Rachel said. Quinn smiled. "I can't believe he's ours," she completed. Quinn smile grew. She nodded. She couldn't believe either.

"I'm so proud of you, Rachel. I love you so much," she whispered, nuzzling Rachel's hair. "You were unbelievably strong. Thank you so much, for letting me be a part of this. I love you. Both of you, with all my heart," she said. Rachel nodded with half-lidded eyes in ecstasy. Quinn was just sure that moment would be forever marked in her heart as the best day of her life.

"I love you too," Rachel replied, leaving one small kiss on Quinn's shoulder. "Thank you for being there for me. I couldn't have done it without you. You're everything to me, Quinn," she said with a small quiver in her voice, as if it hurt to admit. Quinn bit her lip. With everything happening so quick, and their night turning so fast, Quinn had almost forgotten everything that happened earlier in the evening.

"Hey, about what happened before-" she was about to apologize again, truthfully this time, but Rachel cut her short.

"Forget it," Rachel said, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter now. Everything is fine. I just need to ask you one thing, Quinn. Actually it's-" Rachel took a deep breath, trying to find the proper word. "It's more than ask. I beg you. Let him be free," she said.

Rachel didn't have to say one more word. Quinn hadn't thought of that before. In fact, she had forgotten that regardless of who the father was, the baby was born to be a slave simply because Rachel was a slave. But she could do that. She could set the baby free. Deep in her heart, she wanted to do the same for Rachel more than anything, but she was paralyzed with fear. Regardless of how many times Rachel confessed her love, Quinn just couldn't bear the thought of having Rachel deciding to go away. But the baby, it was different. He could be free. It was the biggest birthday gift Quinn could give him.

"I will," Quinn murmured with a nod. She looked down to see a tear gleaming in Rachel's eyes as she smiled, and Quinn leaned forward to kiss her softly - but it felt too weird to do so in front of the baby, and she quickly pulled away. "I promise you. I'll sign his papers first thing in the morning after I get some sleep. But first, I need to know the most important thing," she said. Rachel looked up to her with furrowed eyebrows. "What are you naming him?" Quinn asked. Rachel looked down again and sighed with a smile, leaning forward to kiss the baby's forehead.

"Oliver," Rachel said. Quinn grinned and wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulder, bringing her and the baby closer.

"Hey Ollie," Quinn whispered. "Welcome to our little family," she said almost inaudibly.

Because as hard as it was for her to believe, that's what they were.

Quinn, Rachel and Oliver.

A family.


	29. Chapter 29

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, walking down the hill with a hand on her forehead to try to protect her eyes from the harsh sun. "What are you doing over there?" she said. Quinn didn't answer, probably because she couldn't hear her from so far - so Rachel kept walking until she reached the stable. "Quinn?" she asked again.

"Oh, hi, mama!" Quinn answered with her softest voice, grabbing Oliver's hand and shaking it to greet Rachel. "We didn't see you coming! I thought you were still asleep!"

"No," Rachel answered with a shake of her head. She could never stay in bed after Quinn got up, even if Quinn kept saying it was perfectly fine for her to do so. Force of the habit. "What are you doing over here? The sun is too hot for him," she said, reaching out her arms to grab the baby. It still surprised her to see how much he had grown in just a few months. His body completely filled her arms, and nothing felt better than having him there.

"Nonsense, he needs a little sun. It's good for his skin!" Quinn argued, poking the baby on the belly. He squirmed on Rachel's arms and his lips curled in a smile. Rachel couldn't help but smile too. "I brought him to meet the horses! Apparently he loves them, just as much as you do," Quinn said.

"Is that so?" Rachel asked, her voice becoming softer just by looking at Oliver's face. "Well, in that case, let me do the honors," she said, taking a few steps towards a particular stall. "Do you see this pretty horse over here, Ollie? That's Ace," she said, exchanging a glance with Quinn and smiling bigger than she ever thought she could. "Quinn gave him to me. Isn't he beautiful? I might let you ride him when you're a little bit older, if you promise to behave," she said. Quinn giggled.

Rachel held Oliver just a tiny bit higher, so that he would be face to face with the tall horse. Oliver squealed and flapped his arms, accidentally hitting the horse's snout. Ace neighed and shook his face. Oliver's eyes went wide and he froze for a second - so did Rachel and Quinn, afraid that he would start crying in startle. But instead, he broke in the sweetest laugh, and Rachel and Quinn couldn't help laughing along.

Rachel felt the need to pinch herself just about a billion times a day. She couldn't believe that this was her life. She couldn't believe she had gotten so lucky. Everything felt just so perfect that she felt a shiver running down her spine. There was no way it could get any better than that.

It was only logical. It was the calm before the storm. She almost felt guilty for having such a bad feeling inside of her while everything was just so great - but she couldn't help it. Her mother had always said. A slave's happiness only lasts for a minute.

"Quinn?" They heard someone shouting and turned their heads back to the door. George appeared with that big smile that was so characteristic of him and Rachel watched Oliver smiling to his voice. It was amazing to see how great he was at recognizing people, and even more amazing to see how he clearly already had his preferences. He had never smiled upon hearing Judy's voice. "Oh, look who's here! If it isn't my favorite little bud!" said George, before bowing his head lightly. "And Rachel, of course."

"Hey, George," Quinn greeted, walking in into a hug. He kissed the top of her head and she grinned. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just thought I should come in and check on this little fella," he said, grabbing Oliver's hand and leaning in to kiss the top of Rachel's head too. Her heart melted every time he did so. George had always treated her nicely, but since Oliver had been born, Rachel felt genuinely like a part of the family. George didn't treat her any different than he treated Quinn. "If I'm correct, he just turned four months old, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did!" Rachel said with a proud grin. "We finally got past all that crying. His tummy has been much calmer lately, he's even smiling more," she said. George nodded.

"Yeah, it should just get better from now on. He will be learning things very quickly. Soon enough you will be running after him down this hill," he joked and Rachel gave him a nervous chuckle. She just couldn't deal with the thought of him growing up. He should be her baby forever. "Is it alright if I take him for a small check up? I promise to give him back in just a few," he said, crossing his heart. Rachel giggled, truthfully this time.

"It's alright, I guess," Quinn said with a nod, glancing at Rachel to be sure. Rachel nodded back. "I gotta go to work anyway and Rachel's tutor is about to arrive," she said.

"Who is he staying with during the days?" George asked bringing his eyebrows together. "I mean, so that I can give him back once we're done," he explained.

"With Lou Lee," Rachel replied. "Now that I'm back into work Lou Lee is in charge of taking care of the kids," she said. George's smile could light up the world. It had been Quinn's idea to let Oliver grow up among the other kids and Rachel was more than proud of her for that. She could see George was too.

"Alright then," George said, clapping his hand and reaching out to grab Oliver. Rachel handed him carefully and Oliver snuggled against George's broad chest. "Say goodbye to the ladies, buddy, we're gonna have a little men talk right now."

* * *

"Quinn? Can I talk to you for a second?" George asked, peeking his head inside the office. Quinn shut the papers she had been working on in a drawer and smiled nervously.

"Of course," she said, picking up a pen just to have something to fumble with. "Come on in!"

"So, how's everything going?" he asked, leaning in against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

"Things are going okay, yes," Quinn said with an exaggerated smile and a firm nod. "Lewis has been helping me a lot. Thank you for sending me him!"

"You're welcome," he replied with a small smile. "What are your plans for the farm? What have you two been thinking?" he asked, fidgeting with his feet. He seemed nervous. For a second Quinn thought he had discovered about their new business - but deep down she knew he wouldn't simply ask so nicely if he had.

"Oh, we have a lot of plans," she shrugged it off. "I'll let you know when we start working on them." George nodded biting down his lip. "Is everything alright?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows together. "You seem a little uneasy."

"I'm not sure," he said with a sigh, sitting on the chair across her desk and scooting it forward. "I don't think there would ever be a right time or way for saying this, so I'm just gonna say it already. I think there might be something wrong with Oliver," he said, with his voice lowering with each word that left his mouth until it became almost a whisper. Quinn swallowed hard and let out a nervous chuckle.

"What do you mean? He was perfectly fine this morning and I just saw him having a bottle at the nursery. There's nothing wrong with him," Quinn said with a scoff, but George's face was still dead serious. She shivered. "What do you mean, George?"

"Well Quinn, I believe you have noticed that, although I told you he's face would be normal in a few days after he was born, it never did," he said very carefully, leaning forward and grabbing Quinn's hands. She knit her eyebrows further. George couldn't be saying her child was ugly. It wasn't like something George would do. "That's not the only thing. He's not hitting some milestones, and there are just some characteristics about him that are not exactly typical," he explained.

"Like what?" Quinn asked. She hated that she had never have enough contact with babies to know what differences he was talking about.

"Like his tongue, how it's always sticking out for example. At first I thought it was the natural reflex babies have when they're hungry, but he does it much more frequently than it was expected," George said, and Quinn giggled a little.

"He's blowing us kisses! Rachel does that all the time, he's just copying her, but he hasn't quite mastered it yet so that's how he does it!" she tried to argue, but something twisted in her stomach. She knew George wouldn't talk to her like that if he wasn't sure something wasn't right.

"He feels limp, Quinn. Have you ever held little Bernie? I know he's a little older than Oliver, but still. Oliver shouldn't be so _soft_ by now. It feels like perhaps his muscles aren't build right," George said.

"What does that mean?" Quinn asked. Oliver had always been soft, but Quinn never thought it was a problem. She had always loved how easily he melt in her arms and how much he seemed to love cuddling.

"I'm still not sure what it means," he said worriedly. "I've researched a lot since he was born to try and find out what he could have, but there's nothing like that described in literature. That's what worries me the most. Since I don't know exactly what is wrong, I have no idea what could happen - or _if_ anything will happen. I have talked to a friend back from London and he has commented about a patient with similar characteristics that had severe heart problems, but Oliver's heart seems fine, at least for now."

"Well, so what should we do?" Quinn asked, clasping her hands together in an attempt to make them stop shaking. She felt like the world had crumbled beneath her feet. It was too much of a sick joke from God to give her something like that and make her love it so much just to take it away afterwards.

"There's nothing we can do right now but wait," he said with a small shrug and a sympathetic pout. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I felt like I need to. You need to pay closer attention to him and to anything odd that happens. If he has any physical changes or changes in behavior, you go fetch me instantly. It doesn't matter how small it seems, alright?" he said, as if that could comfort her. "Right now though, what you should do is enjoy every day with him as if it were the last. Give him all the love you can, so that if anything happens you'll look back and know you did everything you could."

"How am I gonna tell this to Rachel?" she asked in a whisper, hiding her face in her hands and shaking her head just slightly. George talked as if her days with Oliver were counted and she had no idea how to process that kind of information, let alone share it with Rachel. "I can't tell her. She would be destroyed. I'm not telling her," she kept whispering to herself.

"Yes, you'll tell her. Rachel is strong, Quinn, she can take it. She will probably take it better than you," George said, but Quinn kept shaking her head in disbelief. "You can't hide this from her. You shouldn't hide _anything_ from her. You two will support each other through this and everything will be fine."

Quinn nodded quietly. There was that feeling again - the feeling that George knew what she was up to with the farm. But he was right. She had to tell Rachel. She was already keeping too much from her. Rachel deserved to know what was happening to her son. Quinn just didn't know how to tell her.

* * *

"Rachel?" Lou Lee called out in a whisper, coming inside Quinn's room to find Rachel on the rocking chair with an asleep Oliver in her arms. "There's a man downstairs to see you," she said with a confused frown.

"Who is it?" Rachel frowned back, reaching out her hand so that Lou Lee could help her get up. She couldn't remember ever receiving any guests. It's not like she knew anyone outside that farm, anyway.

"I don't know, he didn't say his name," Lou Lee answered with a shrug, placing a careful hand behind Rachel's back to help her down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Rachel almost dropped Oliver to the floor in surprise.

"Father!" Rachel exclaimed loudly. Oliver squirmed in her arms and she held him tighter, walking towards her father. "What are you doing here? You can't be here! Is everything alright?" she asked. She could only imagine the trouble she would be in if Judy walked in and found her chatting with her father in their living room.

"Miss Quinn sent a carriage for me!" he exclaimed with widened eyes in happiness. "She sent a message that I was a grandfather and I simply couldn't wait to meet this little guy," he said, walking in her direction. Rachel's mouth fell open for half a second. Quinn would never stop surprising her. Eugene wrapped one arm around Rachel's shoulder and leaned closer to take a look at the baby's face.

"Dad, meet Oliver," Rachel said. Oliver sighed deeply in his sleep and smiled softly. He was probably dreaming, but Rachel let herself believe that he had felt the connection with his grandfather. Eugene held her tighter and Rachel could see his lips quivering in a pout.

"Oh, my dear, he looks just so precious!" Eugene said. Rachel watched him fighting his tears and smiled. He was sweet enough to not ask who was the father and to not judge Rachel for having a child without getting married, and she just loved him so much more for that.

"Come here, dad," she said, yanking her head towards the back. "Let's go to the kitchen house, we can talk more in there," Rachel said. Eugene nodded and they walked side by side, luckily not finding anyone on their way. "Abbie!" Rachel exclaimed as they came inside. "This is my father, Eugene. Father, this is Abbigail, she works here with me. She's one of my best friends," she said.

"Nice to meet you, sir," said Abbie with a small bow.

"Oh no! Just because I'm a grandfather now it doesn't mean you have to call me sir, dear. You can call me Eugene," he said with a chuckle and a dismissive wave of hand. "It's very nice to meet you too. It's great to see Rachel is surrounded with good people."

"Would you like something to eat? Or drink? Some tea, perhaps?" Abbie asked as she pulled a chair to help Rachel sit down with the baby and motioned with her head towards the other chair for Eugene to sit.

"Tea would be great, thank you," he said with a smile, sitting down. Rachel reached out across the table and grabbed his hand.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered with the biggest smile on her face. "Abbie, can you believe Quinn has sent a carriage to bring him here?" she said proudly. Abbie rose her eyebrows in surprise as she poured hot water into three cups of tea. "How are things with you, father?"

"Things are going okay," he said with a small nod. "I haven't gotten a steady job since Mrs. Margaret has passed away, but I'm getting by just fine with occasional jobs here and there."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked, furrowing her eyebrows in concern. She knew most rich people had an official carriage driver and that it was rare the occasions when they needed to call for an extra one. She would feel terrible knowing that her father was having any kind of financial problems while she lived so well. "I'm sure we can arrange something for you to do around here if you need, father."

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed with a shake of his head. "I couldn't live in a farm like this. I'm way too used to the city life," he said in a chuckle. Abbie served the teacups and he thanked her in a murmur. "I'm so glad yo see you have settled down so well in here, though," he said. "Is she giving you too much trouble, miss Abbie?" he asked playfully.

The afternoon went by in a blink and Rachel felt like she was living a dream. Never she would have imagined her life would be like that, but as she watched her father playing with her son she knew for sure she was right where she was supposed to be. She didn't regret any of her life's mistakes, because they all led her to moments like that, when all she felt was an never ending bliss. Even in a world so full of hate, she managed to surround herself with love - and it made all of her life worth it.

When she hugged her father goodbye that day, she made sure to hold him extra tight and for just a second longer. A bad feeling twisted in her stomach and something told her she wouldn't have many more chances of doing so.

* * *

Quinn had spent all day trying to figure out how to come up with the subject, but she still had no idea. Rachel walked to bed with Oliver in her arms and smiled at Quinn. Quinn smiled back. Oliver had been sleeping through the night for the last month, so they started bringing him to sleep in bed with them. Rachel laid by Quinn's side and placed Oliver right in between them.

Oliver's eyes focused on Quinn and she felt her eyes welling up. She delighted in him. He smiled at her, his little tongue poking out of his mouth once again, and Quinn hurt deep within. She didn't want to believe it. She hugged him close and nuzzled her nose in his soft neck, breathing that smell that was his and only his, and that she had fallen so deeply in love with. She couldn't ever lose him.

"Thank you for bringing my father here today," Rachel said in a murmur, bringing Quinn back from her thoughts. "You have no idea how happy that made me. Oliver loved him, he blew him so many kisses!" Rachel said with a giggle, but Quinn bit her lip and nodded with tears threatening to leave her eyes. George's words wouldn't leave her mind. He didn't blew kisses. "What's wrong?" Rachel asked with a frown when she noticed Quinn's reactions.

That wasn't the way Quinn wanted that to go. She had planned on holding everything back to tell Rachel calmly and be able to give her the support Rachel would need - but she couldn't. Quinn started sobbing uncontrollably and Rachel wrapped an arm on her waist, bringing her closer and smashing Oliver between their hug. Oliver giggled and Quinn cried more. It hurt just to look at him and know that she had no idea for how long they would be able to spend nights like those. Together.

"George came to talk to me today," she said between sobs. "He said he thinks there's something wrong with Ollie," Quinn whispered, as if Oliver could understand it. She felt Rachel stiffening against her body and sighing. As if she knew. As if she felt. She didn't say anything, so Quinn went on. "He said he thinks Ollie's muscles aren't build right and that that's the reason his tongue keeps pushing out and why his face is so flat and why he feels so… _floppy_ in our arms," she said running out of breath by the end of the sentence and starting to cry again after a deep breath.

Rachel didn't say anything. Quinn felt terrible for losing control and not being able to help Rachel, although Rachel didn't look like she needed any help. Rachel ran one finger along Oliver's cheek, perhaps trying to feel the muscles on his cheeks - but she didn't look surprised. She didn't look scared either. She looked as if she expected it to happen, as if she didn't deserve things to be so perfect - and it made Quinn break down all over again.

"What's gonna happen?" Rachel asked, not meeting Quinn's eyes.

"I don't know," she said, but her voice faltered. "He doesn't know. He has never seen anything like that. He said we should be very attentive to anything odd and that we should seize every second we have with him," she whispered. A tear dropped onto Oliver's face and he wiggled his head in surprise. Rachel didn't say anything again for a few seconds. Quinn convinced herself that it was just the shock, because thinking that Rachel could be so cold to not be bothered by the news made her shiver.

"Don't cry, alright?" Rachel finally said, running one hand up and down Quinn's arm. Quinn swallowed her tears and nodded. "He's not ours, he's God's. God lend Oliver to us, but if He needs him back, we'll let him go. That doesn't mean we love him any less. In the meantime we'll enjoy our time with him and learn everything he has to teach us," she said, and Quinn had to bite down her lip to stop herself from starting to cry again. "And we're moving," she said firmly.

"What?" Quinn asked with a confused frown.

"We can't stay here. If anything happens and we need a doctor, it's at least an hour until we can reach George in Basseterre. We need to be closer to doctors," she said. Quinn stood still. "Look, I know you don't want to. I know you feel like it's your mission to stay in this farm and take care of it, but it's his life we're talking about Quinn. If you don't want to go, then please…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Then let me go with him."

"No," Quinn shook her head nervously. "No, I can't be without you. Both of you! I'll figure something out, I'll try to find a way of running the farm from afar. If you think we should move, then we're moving," Quinn said. In a matter of second Rachel had come to conclusions Quinn couldn't think of in a whole day. Rachel was the most logical one in difficult situations like those. She was Quinn's rock and Quinn trusted her.

"I'm gonna ask you again," Rachel said, biting down her lip. "Think about America," she said and Quinn was about to argue back, but Rachel stopped her. "Just think. There are a lot more doctors in there and more advanced hospitals. We could have a much better chance of finding out whatever is going on. Just think about it, alright?"

"Okay," Quinn answered with a sigh, but she didn't have to think any further. Rachel had convinced her in her first sentence. Oliver had Quinn wrapped around his little finger, and there was nothing Quinn wouldn't do to make sure he was safe and healthy. She had always thought that farm was her dream, until she saw his eyes and knew she was wrong all along. That was her dream. What they had right there. She, Rachel and Oliver cuddling on a big bed. It was all she wanted in life and she would fight with all her strength to keep that dream alive.

She would sell the farm. They would move to America.


	30. Chapter 30

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

It was the last cropover party Quinn would ever host as the owner of that farm. Although the crop hadn't been significant that year and all the money had come from another source, she wanted to make the last party memorable. It was her way of saying goodbye. It was her way of trying to forget all her problems.

She made sure Abbie prepared a banquet like they hadn't seen in many years. She decorated the whole backyard with roses imported from England - she had given up on growing them in the farm. She filled the party with music and a huge bonfire to keep everyone warm. It had everything a good party needed. Still, it felt like the worst party ever thrown.

The slaves would never refuse the food, but none of them were happy and dancing like Quinn had expected them to be. As if things weren't bad enough, Lady Angeline had arrived the day before and sat with Judy judging Quinn's failure. The two women had never been fond of each other, but they were both thrilled watching how nervous Quinn was. And Quinn was so nervous. Her head ached like it was about to explode and her whole body felt sore after the whole week of planning the party - but none of it it hurt as much as it did to realize it was all in vain.

George always tried to save the day. He was always the one she could count on. Arabella looked like she could barely stand up with a belly that big, but George took her hand and she smiled as they started dancing, hoping the slaves would join them. A few of them smiled towards George, the kind of smile Quinn never got from them, but no one stood up. Quinn could already see slaves getting up to leave after having eaten everything they wanted, and for a second she felt like she would faint.

"Wanna dance with me?" Rachel whispered in her ear, coming from behind and making Quinn jump up in startle. Her heart raced, which only made her head ache more.

"You scared me!" she whined, but her heart stopped when she saw Rachel holding out her hand for Quinn to grab. "Rach, you know I can't. There's too many people looking. My mother and aunt are right there!" she whispered, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to them.

"Come on," Rachel nudged her with her shoulder. "George has danced with slaves before, at other cropovers. No one minds, it's a party!" she tried - but Quinn couldn't. She wanted to, more than anything. To just take Rachel in her arms and dance the night away and stop worrying so much, but she couldn't. She wished she could be the one to give Rachel a moment of happiness after the tough weeks they had been through after finding out about Oliver. But she couldn't. Not yet. They were moving away soon, she only had to keep her reputation for a few more weeks and they would be fine. She couldn't put it all at risk so close. "Alright, alright," Rachel said, rolling her eyes playfully. Quinn loved that she didn't have to say a thing - Rachel could see it all in her eyes.

"Please," Quinn whispered, grabbing her by the shoulder to stop her from walking away. "Help me," she said. Rachel frowned. "This is the last party, it can't be this bad. Why aren't they having fun? I got everything they used to like!"

Rachel took matters to her own hand. She couldn't stand watching Quinn so anxious, so she tried her best to make the party come to life. She invited all the slaves she knew to dance with her, and although some of them did, it felt like they were only doing so because they were afraid of what could happen to them if they didn't obey Rachel. As if Rachel wasn't a slave, just like them. No one talked to her like they used to before. It was almost as if they knew.

If that party was only a few months before, Rachel was sure someone would have told her what was wrong. Why so many slaves had scowls on their faces even as food kept coming their way nonstop. It didn't matter how hard she tried to cheer them up, the party felt more like a funeral. Perhaps it had something to do with how it was the first cropover party without Russell there, but even though Rachel asked around to find out what was going on, no one told her.

It felt ironic that even though she had been through one of the worst weeks of her life, trying to find out what was it that Oliver really had, she was still one of the few cheerful people at the party. She had been working hard on trying to not bring herself down. Oliver was inside, sleeping safe and sound for now. She wouldn't let herself worry before something really happened. Instead, she danced and danced, trying to spread some joy around the party - but it didn't work at all.

The party was over much earlier than it was supposed to, because everyone simply left. Rachel watched as Judy and Lady Angeline walked back inside the house, not even trying to hide their smirks. George and Arabella waved a goodbye and Rachel waved back. Quinn was still sitting in a wooden bench with the saddest look on her face. Rachel sat by her side and grabbed her hand, now that no one was watching them anymore.

"It isn't your fault," Rachel said softly. "You planned everything right. I don't know what's wrong with them, but it isn't your fault. They are the ones who missed out on a great party. Everything was amazing, Quinn."

"Yeah," Quinn whispered with a sigh, looking down to her hands. Rachel didn't know what it was, but it felt like there was something more. Something hidden. Something that Quinn didn't tell her and that the slaves didn't have the courage to tell either.

"Hey?" Rachel called out, getting Quinn to look at her. "Are you alright?" she asked, although she could see in Quinn's face that she wasn't. She was just hoping Quinn would open up and say something, but deep down, she knew Quinn wouldn't. She never opened up so easily.

"Yeah," Quinn nodded and waved her hand dismissively. "I just got a little bit of a headache, but I'll be fine," she said. Rachel's heart felt tight.

"You know that I love you, right?" she said, and watched Quinn's face twisting as if it hurt to hear those words. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

"Yeah," Quinn answered with a nod and a small smile. "I love you too," she whispered, and Rachel bit her lip. Something was definitely wrong. "I'm gonna head inside and go over some papers before going to bed, alright?"

"Okay," Rachel replied, taking a look around. "I'm just gonna help Abbie take the trays to the kitchen house and I'll be inside in a minute," she said. Quinn nodded and stood up. Rachel stood up too, but she felt like the weight of a house was hanging on her back.

* * *

"What should I even do with all this food? They didn't even eat half of it," Abbie said, stopping in front of the table with her hands on her waist. "I can't simply throw it away, but it will be spoiled if it isn't eaten soon," she said. Rachel sat down and grabbed a turkey leg in her hand, taking a huge bite of it. She had been so nervous trying to make the party better that she hadn't even had the time to eat before.

"I have never seen slaves acting so indifferent towards food," Rachel said shaking her head. "What is going on, Abbie?" she asked. Abbie turned around and started washing dishes, but Rachel could see she was just avoiding to look in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Abbie asked, dunking the forks in a bucket full of water.

"Why do I feel like something is happening and I'm being left out?" Rachel asked, putting down the turkey leg and wrapping an apron around her waist to help Abbie. "Clearly there's something wrong going on, but none of the slaves would talk to me about it tonight," she said.

"Well, I don't think they trust you anymore, Rachel," Abbie said with a small shrug and a smile of gratitude for Rachel helping her. "They know how much time you spend with Quinn and they know you are treated differently than the other slaves, especially after Ollie was born. They're jealous and they don't feel like you're the same as them anymore," she explained. Rachel nodded pressing her lips together.

"Do you feel that way?" Rachel asked directly.

"No, but it's different," Abbie said with a nervous chuckle. "You're like family to me," she said. "I mean, you're lucky that you got Quinn to like you enough to give you so many privileges, but you didn't change at all because of that. I mean, look at you right now," Abbie said, bumping her hip with Rachel's as they did the dishes together. "And I know that if we needed anything you would do anything to help us."

"So you still trust me?" Rachel asked again. Abbie frowned.

"Yeah, I still trust you," she replied. "What is all of this about?" Abbie asked.

"I need to know what's going on," Rachel said.

She still wasn't sure if something was really going on or if it was just something her mind made up to explain why the party had been so awful - but she had a bad feeling that wouldn't stop growing and she knew it didn't have anything to do with Oliver. Although no one talked about it, she was sure everyone was already aware that he was different. Still, everyone was infatuated by him. It was something else. Something only she didn't know of.

"I don't know if I can tell you, Rachel," Abbie answered with a sympathetic pout. "It isn't my place to do so and I could get in trouble for that. To be honest, at first I thought you knew," she said, and Rachel's frown only deepened having her fears becoming real. "But when I thought better, I knew you wouldn't let it happen if you did know."

"Abbie, you have to tell me!" Rachel begged, grabbing Abbie's hand and making her drop the spoon she had been washing. Abbie's words had terrified her. Whatever was happening was probably even worst than her imagination could ever figure, and she damned herself for being so caught up in her own problems that she hadn't realized sooner that something wasn't right. "Please, Abbie. I need to know what's going on," she said.

"If you really wanna know, you should ask Quinn, Rach," Abbie said with a deep sigh, leaning against the counter and wiping her hands on her apron. "But I wouldn't, if I were you. Sometimes is better to stay blind than to see the truth. Quinn is good for you," she said.

But there was no way Rachel could simply let go. It wasn't like her. She had to find out what was happening.

* * *

"Rachel?" George asked when Rachel crossed the drawing room with firm steps walking towards Quinn's office. Rachel felt fire boiling up in her blood. George must have felt it, because he left Arabella in the drawing room to follow Rachel. She didn't complain, she could use George's support.

She didn't even knock on the door.

"What are you doing, Quinn?" Rachel asked, slamming the door opened. Quinn shivered in surprise and gave her a nervous chuckle.

"I'm going over some papers," she said, shoving some of them back in the drawer. It made Rachel even more angry, that she would so obviously hide things from her. "What is going on?" Quinn asked with a small frown, looking at George over Rachel's shoulder. George shrugged in confusion.

"Don't hide it from me, Quinn," Rachel said, marching her way to the desk and slamming both her hands on it. "You've done that enough. Tell me right now! I deserve to know!" Rachel yelled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Quinn said, swallowing hard. Rachel could see so clearly that she was bluntly lying. It made Rachel want to give up on her altogether. If she had done something so terrible that she would rather lie to Rachel's face than to tell, perhaps Rachel was wrong. Perhaps Quinn had never changed at all.

"Rachel, calm down," George said in a whisper, putting one hand on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel's instinct was to yank it away, but George didn't deserve it. He hadn't been the one lying to her. She could see right in his face that he didn't know what was happening either.

"Are you really gonna let him stand up for you like this?" Rachel asked. Quinn didn't move an inch. In fact, Rachel wasn't even sure she had been breathing since the moment they entered the room. George's face finally fell into a scowl, as if he had finally realized Rachel wasn't crazy and that Quinn had been hiding something. "Let me see those papers you just shut in the drawer," Rachel demanded. Quinn shook her head just slightly. Rachel wanted to scream. She wanted to get out of there and never come back. But she could never. She could scream at Quinn all she wanted, but she was still trapped by her side.

"What is going on, Quinn?" George asked suspiciously, pulling the chair across the desk and sitting down. It was a good idea. Rachel should do the same, to prevent her legs from crumbling her down onto the floor. But she couldn't. She was too angry to simply sit down.

"I can explain," Quinn said, trying to act calm, but Rachel could see right through her. Rachel took a deep breath. After being lied to, she felt like she shouldn't even give Quinn the opportunity to do so - but then she forced herself to remember everything they went through together and everything Quinn had ever done to her and most of all, how she loved Quinn. She loved Quinn and she knew that the anger she felt then wasn't anything near the pain she knew she would feel once the adrenaline in her veins lowered. If she didn't have an explanation to hang on to, she would be devastated.

"Alright, we're waiting. Go on," said George.

Quinn reached out for the bottom drawer and grabbed all the papers with financial information of the farm. It went from the year of its foundation right to the year they were in. She explained everything in details. How the plantation system worked. How the sugar cane crops worked. Rachel thought Quinn was just buying herself time and it only made her more nervous - but George convinced her to sit down and she did so. Quinn explained how the sugar cane would exhaust the soil and make it useless so that nothing else would ever grow. She showed the finances from the last few years and Rachel's mouth ran dry. They had been borderline bankrupted.

"Lewis came to try to help, but there wasn't much we could do. It would cost too much to nourish the soil again and to start an irrigation system, and as you can see, we didn't have any money," Quinn explained, pushing the piece of paper forward. Her hand shook as she did so and Rachel knew it was only the beginning. "He showed me that we had only two options. The first one would be to sell all the slaves, sell the farm - sell everything we owned, and start it all over again. To buy a few acres of land and a couple of slaves and build it all again from the start. I couldn't do that. It was too risky. I didn't know how much time it would take for the new farm to start bringing us money and I wasn't on my own anymore," she said, motioning with her head. Rachel understood what she meant. Oliver. He hadn't been born yet, but Quinn already worried about him. It was almost enough to make Rachel's heart soften up again.

"What was the other option?" Rachel asked in a whisper, looking down to her hands. She couldn't watch as Quinn spoke.

"In Saint Domingue the sugar cane production it's at its peak, because the french invested thousands of money on an irrigation system that saved their plantations. They are producing so much that they didn't have enough slaves to manage it," Quinn said. Her voice had become just a whisper and Rachel shut her eyes before hearing what she would say next. "The ships that come from Africa stop here first, because it's closer. It's usually their first stop after a lot of days crossing the ocean."

"You got into slave trading," George whispered and Rachel felt her vision going black.

"It's not as bad as it sounds, I swear!" Quinn cried out as she leaned forward on the table. Rachel leaned back on the chair. Anything to keep a distance between them. "They would be sold there anyway. When they get here, they're starving. I buy them and I feed them and then I sell them to the farmers at Saint Domingue," she said. Rachel didn't say anything. Neither did George. It only made Quinn more anxious.

Rachel's stomach twisted. Part of her was flattered that Quinn would go the distance just to assure she and Oliver would have everything. The other, greater part of her, told herself that Quinn wasn't making any sacrifices. She didn't lose anything by doing what she did. She had no idea what it was like to be a slave, but she knew how awful it was to do what she did, or else she wouldn't have hidden it from her and George.

"You are gross," Rachel growled under her breath, before standing up. "Do you know what happened to those people you are selling as slaves? They aren't slaves Quinn," Rachel yelled. "They are simply captured in Africa, just because they're black, and they're brought here and sold as slaves. They're stolen away from their families and from their lives just because you decided they should!" she shouted, anger pouring from every inch of her skin. She had heard those stories way too many times. It had happened to her grandmother. If it weren't for slave traders, Rachel would never have been born a slave.

"Rachel, you don't understand!" Quinn shouted back, standing up and walking towards her. Rachel kept walking back. She didn't want to be close to Quinn. She couldn't. "It was either that or sell our own slaves! Don't you get it? I would have to sell Abbigail, and Dorea, and Lou Lee, and Bernie - and nothing guarantees that they would be sold to the same person! They could be separated and never see each other again," Quinn yelled, but Rachel kept shaking her head. She didn't want to think about it. It couldn't be that those were the only two options. "Rachel, I could end up having to sell you!" Quinn said, breaking into a sob.

"What is going on over here?" Lady Angeline shouted, slamming the door opened probably after hearing all the yelling coming from inside. Judy followed close behind with eyes widened in curiosity. George stood still, perhaps still in shock. Rachel looked around and knew there was no way they could keep the conversation going with that audience. In fact, she wasn't sure she could keep the conversation going regardless of the audience. There was too much going on inside her head and she had much thinking to do. She walked towards the door and Lady Angeline took a step to the side to let her pass.

"Rachel," Quinn shouted, but it didn't stop her. Rachel walked out of the office and Lady Angeline followed close behind. "George, don't let her go after her! Please!" Quinn said and in a second George was out of the door too.

Rachel hated it. She hated that even when she despised Quinn with all her forces, Quinn still thought of her safety first. She ran faster than Lady Angeline and George could and got into Quinn's bedroom, locking the door behind her. When she knew she was alone, she let herself fall into the ground and cry. And she would cry until her mind was crystal clear. Until she knew what she should think. Until she knew what she should do.

* * *

Quinn knocked softly on the door a couple hours later. She hoped Rachel would have calmed down enough so that they could talk, but Rachel opened the door and turned around without ever meeting Quinn's eyes. Rachel walked into the dressing room and Quinn followed her, without saying a word.

Rachel undressed Quinn without letting her fingers touch her skin, and it hurt. Quinn almost told her that she didn't have to do so, because she would rather do it herself than have Rachel doing it like that - but then she remembered she would never be able to untie all the laces on the back of her dress on her own. Rachel helped her slip into her nightgown and at the very same second already started to take off the pins out of Quinn's hair. Quinn crossed her arms in front of her body, somehow trying to cover it.

Rachel had seen her naked many, many times, but still she never had felt more vulnerable, even though she was wearing clothes. Rachel didn't take her time to look at Quinn's body like she usually did and ironically, that made Quinn too much self conscious. It felt wrong to have Rachel do those tasks so mechanically. It pained her that Rachel didn't drop any kisses on her shoulder in the process. But her whole body was in pain, anyway.

She was past thinking it was due to all the work to organize the party. Her head had never ached so deeply and she felt like her whole body was about to dismantle from so much soreness. She would probably come up with a cold - perhaps the worst cold she ever had. Rachel pulled the covers for her to lay down. Quinn didn't want to be covered - her body felt too hot - but she didn't have the courage to tell Rachel.

"Is there anything else you need?" Rachel asked, as she poured a glass of water and set it on Quinn's nightstand. Quinn frowned.

"Where are you going?" she asked in a whisper, clutching to the covers. She felt so defenseless. She knew it was her fault that Rachel was treating her like that, but still, she didn't feel like she deserved it. And it hurt her that Rachel wouldn't understand her reasons. Everything hurt. She had to close her eyes.

"I'm gonna sleep in the nursery with Oliver," Rachel said coldly, already turning around to leave.

"Please, don't go," Quinn said in a murmur, fluttering her eyes open and finally finding Rachel's. Rachel looked away instantly and Quinn felt her eyes watering. "Stay," she said again. "I'm not feeling well."

"Is that an order?" Rachel asked with a sigh. Quinn's heart broke and she was almost sure she had heard the shattering. She tried to find her words, but they wouldn't come out, so she just shook her head and closed her eyes again. A tear slipped out. She hoped Rachel hadn't seen it. Her whole body shivered. "Then I'll see you tomorrow," Rachel murmured.

The last thing Quinn heard was the door being closed.


	31. Chapter 31

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

Rachel didn't sleep at all. She knew she could never fall asleep without Quinn near her, so she didn't even try. Instead, she laid down with Oliver and let a few shy tears run down her face as she gently caressed him while he slept. It was not only absurd, it was actually _impossible_ \- but sometimes when he sighed deeply during his dreams and smiled afterwords, it was almost as if he looked like Quinn. Quinn.

Rachel found herself stuck in between two contradicting thoughts.

On one side, there were the slaves. People like her. Possibly the only ones who could ever understand everything she went through in her life. People who suffered everyday simply because their skin was darker, and someone had decided that was how it was going to be. People who suffered without deserving it. Of course, Rachel wasn't fond of all slaves. She could never forgive the ones who had raped her, and she felt hurt by the ones who treated her worse simply because she had better treatments. It wasn't her fault either. But those weren't the slaves Quinn was selling. She was selling slaves who very likely had no idea what was even gonna happen to them. Her mother had told her the stories, of how her grandmother had come to the West Indies. How terrible it had been to cross a whole ocean in a tight ship without food or any notions of hygiene. It was ruthless. It was unfair. It was down right cruel.

But it was Quinn. Quinn who had way more than a fair share of mistakes on her account. But when it came to this particular one, how could Rachel blame her? She didn't make the best choices, but she did them out of love. She did so because she thought it was the one that would hurt Rachel the least, although she knew none of the options would make Rachel happy. She didn't tell Rachel to protect her from the pain. She not only wanted to protect Rachel, but the ones Rachel considered to be her family. She not only had taken Rachel into her life and showed her what love was, but she had embraced and accepted and loved Oliver, Rachel's son, as if it was her own. She loved them both enough to give up on her biggest dream for their sake. She had accepted to sell the farm to make sure Rachel's son would be safe and healthy. Rachel knew it would be selfish and, honestly, a shame to her people if she took Quinn's side, but it was difficult not to.

"Rachel," Lou Lee exclaimed breathless opening the nursery's door. "You need to come here, Quinn's not okay!" she said. Rachel frowned. Quinn had said she wasn't feeling well, but Rachel thought it was only her way of trying to convince her to stay. "I'm serious. She didn't even want me to tell you, but I'm worried. Go check on her, I'll stay with Ollie!" Lou Lee said, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her out of bed. Rachel groaned. She knew she would end up forgiving Quinn, but she wasn't ready yet. It was still too recent. She wanted some time for herself before they spoke again.

When Rachel walked in the room, she felt her stomach dropping to the floor. Quinn quivered in bed, her whole body drenched in sweat. Her hair was stuck to her forehead and she had her eyes and mouth closed tightly. She didn't even noticed Rachel had entered the room. Rachel walked to her side and sat on the bed, but Quinn didn't open her eyes even with the mattress shifting under Rachel's weight.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked in a whisper, brushing her hand against Quinn's forehead to sweep away the hair and gasping when she realized how hot she felt. "Oh, dear, you're burning in fever," she said. It didn't take more than a second for her to forget everything they had discussed earlier.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," Quinn cried out with a trembling lip. Rachel sighed and shook her head.

"You didn't," she said. Rachel pulled away the covers but Quinn's body shook in protest. The fever made her cold without the covers, but Rachel couldn't let her sweat so much. It couldn't be good for her. "What are you feeling?" she asked, grabbing Quinn's hand. Quinn held on to her so tightly that it made Rachel's heart ache.

"A piercing pain in my head," Quinn whispered, her face twisting in pain. It hurt Rachel to watch. She dropped a kiss on Quinn's hand and Quinn opened her eyes to look deep inside Rachel's. "Rach," she whispered, bringing their joined hands closer to her heart. "If I-" she took a deep breath before going on. "If I die, you are free, alright? I'm gonna write that down so that no one can fight you on this," Quinn rambled, motioning to get up but falling back on bed and crying out in pain.

"Quinn, shut your mouth right now!" Rachel said, angrier than she intended to. Quinn was scaring the hell out of her. The mere thought of having Quinn dying, especially after how their night had gone, made Rachel lose it. "I'm gonna go grab George, alright? Can you stay here for just a second?" Rachel asked.

"I love you, Rach," Quinn murmured, letting a small sob break out of her lips. Rachel felt her hand starting to shake in fear. "I'm so sorry," she cried out.

"Quinn, listen to me," Rachel said, putting each one of her hands in one side of Quinn's face and holding her in place so that she would look her in the eyes. "You're not dying, okay? You just can't. You're gonna wait just one second and I'm gonna come back with George and he'll help us and you'll be fine. You can't leave me."

Quinn pursued her lips in a small pout, but nodded. Rachel dropped a kiss in her scalding forehead and ran out of the room to get George. She silently thanked God that he had decided to stay over for the night, because she had no idea what she would have done if he wasn't there. Not even a minute later they walked back into the room, Rachel dragging George by the hand as he put on his glasses and tried to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the candles that lit up Quinn's room. Quinn's situation must have startled him just as it did with Rachel, because in a blink he was kneeling by her bed with his eyes wide opened.

George laid his head onto Quinn's chest to hear her heartbeat and Rachel froze by the door. It was just too similar to the day she had watched George trying to save Russell. Quinn started mumbling nonsenses and it just scared Rachel even further. She thought of getting away from that. She couldn't watch it. She couldn't even think about it.

"Rachel, I need your help," George said, and Rachel was snapped out of her thoughts like magic. She couldn't run away and she couldn't just stay there. She had to help. She couldn't give up. She couldn't let Quinn go. "We're gonna need to give her a cold bath to lower the fever. Can you fetch the water for us?" he asked. Rachel was out of the room before he could even finish.

Rachel grabbed two buckets of water from the water barrel near the kitchen house. It was the water Abbie used to cook, and she always complained when someone used it without pumping more water to refill it, but Rachel simply didn't have the time to worry about that. The two buckets weren't enough to fill the bathtub as much as Quinn usually liked, but they didn't have time for that either. Rachel felt wrong filling the bathtub without warming up the water first, but she wouldn't argue with George. He knew better.

"It's ready," she called out, only then realizing she had barely given herself time to breath.

"Alright," George said, getting up from the floor. "I have given her a painkiller so she's a little bit groggy, but don't be scared alright?" he said. Rachel nodded, although she couldn't promise anything. "She will be fine, Rachel. Just help me get her to the bathtub," he said. Rachel did.

She didn't take Quinn's shifts off, because although George was her brother, it still felt wrong to let her bare in front of him. She kneeled on the floor by Quinn's side and with a cup slowly poured water all over Quinn's body. Quinn still shivered, although she didn't say a word. Rachel didn't remember her heart ever beating that fast.

"What's happening?" Quinn asked in a murmur, after what it felt like years to Rachel. She breathed out hearing Quinn's voice and wanted more than anything to just grab Quinn's face and kiss her lips and thank her for being there still - but George was there, so she just grabbed Quinn's hand again. She didn't care at all that her own gown was drenched in a mix of sweat and spilled water.

"I think you've gotten yellow fever," George said, pulling her eyelids up now that she had finally opened them and looking deep inside her eyes. Rachel's grip loosened as she heard George. She had no idea what it meant, but it didn't sound good at all.

"Am I going to die?" Quinn asked and Rachel's breath got caught. She couldn't quite breath again until George answered.

"Of course not," he said with a chuckle. Nothing had ever felt as comforting as that chuckle. George wouldn't chuckle if Quinn was dying. He wouldn't lie to her, either. Or at least Rachel hoped. "You're young and healthy, Quinn. It will be out of you in three days, maximum. The first night is always the worst, you'll already feel much better in the morning," he said. Rachel nodded along his words. He didn't know anything about what he talked about, but it was reassuring to hear them.

"Can I go to bed, then?" Quinn asked with a frown, shifting inside the bathtub. "This isn't comfortable," she whined.

"Yes," George said, with another chuckle. Regardless of how reassured Rachel was, she still couldn't say anything, let alone laugh. "Rachel, will please change her clothes? I will change her sheets as you do so, then we can put her into bed," he said.

"Oh, no!" Rachel shook her head viciously. "You've helped a lot already George, I can change her sheets," she said. That was no work for a man, especially not a man like George.

"Nonsense," he said, getting up and patting the dust out of his knees. "The quicker we get this done, the quicker she'll be comfortable in bed. It's no problem at all," said George, going back to the bedroom before Rachel could argue any further.

Rachel pulled Quinn's arm over her neck to support her weight and walked her to the dressing room. She picked the first nightgown she found and helped Quinn on it before she could start feeling cold again. Quinn's eyes were closed for the whole time, much as her mouth. Rachel couldn't stop imagining what went on inside her head. When they came out, the bed was already perfectly done. Rachel was surprised to see George could do it so well, but didn't say so. She didn't want him to think she underestimated him.

"Just lay down now," he said, helping Rachel to put Quinn onto bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned to drop a kiss on Quinn's forehead. "You'll be fine. You need to stop scaring me like that. I almost had a heart attack when Rachel entered my room," he said. Quinn chuckled, and Rachel had never heard anything so relieving. Quinn was fine. "If the fever comes back go grab me again, okay, Rachel?" he asked, and Rachel nodded.

"Thank you so much, George," she said. George nodded in acknowledgment and gripped her shoulder affectionately before leaving the room.

"Rachel?" Quinn called out, patting the bed near her side, where Rachel usually slept.

"I'm right here," Rachel said, from near the door.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. She sounded so small. All that Rachel wanted was to wrap her up and keep her safe and near her forever. Rachel was going to change her nightgown first, but how could she stay one second longer away from Quinn? Instead, she locked the door and took off her clothes.

"I'm never leaving you," she whispered, crawling under the covers by Quinn's side and pulling her closer. She fixed Quinn's hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. Quinn sighed and smiled. Rachel's heart melted. "God, you scared me," she mumbled under her breath, clutching tightly onto Quinn.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, burying her face on the crook of Rachel's neck. Rachel could feel her breathing against her skin. She would never be able to put into words how grateful she was that it had been only a scare. "For everything," Quinn said. It took a second for Rachel to remember what Quinn was talking about.

"It's like the universe doesn't want me to be mad at you," Rachel said with a small giggle. "We fight and I get into labor. We fight again and you fall ill. Someone really wants me to stay with you," she said playfully.

It felt weird to be able to joke about it so close after it happened, but there's nothing like fear to put things under perspective. Rachel had always thought she wanted to be free more than anything. It took Quinn's illness for her to realize that had never been her dream. She wanted nothing more than to be with Quinn, regardless of how many times Quinn messed up. And that's what love was all about, wasn't it? Forgiveness. Redemption. Surrender.

* * *

Rachel slipped out of the room when the sun rose and Quinn had finally fell asleep without a fever. She took the dirty linens downstairs to wash it while she had the chance, so that she could keep Quinn company once she woke up. Of course, Dorea could have done it, or even Abbie. But Rachel liked doing so. She liked feeling that she was the one who took care of Quinn.

"You're up early." Rachel heard someone saying and turned around to see whose voice was it that she didn't recognize. Lady Angeline. Rachel was surprised to see _her_ up. "I thought you would need some rest after such a bumpy night yesterday," she said. She didn't know half of it.

"Slaves are always up early," Rachel replied coldly. She didn't want Lady Angeline to think she was engaging in conversation. She didn't want it to seem like she was giving her any kind of opening. But Rachel knew she couldn't just ignore her.

"Of course," Lady Angeline said, with a nod and a chuckle. "And what a great slave you are," she said, taking one step forward and leaning against the door. Rachel was kneeling on the floor scrubbing the bed sheets clean. She was comforted knowing Lady Angeline wouldn't want to get close enough to get her gown wet. "I still don't understand how Quinn could get so lucky," she said.

"I'm lucky," Rachel corrected, a little faster than she intended. She shouldn't be giving Lady Angeline anything to work with, but it was hard to keep her mouth shut when anyone talked about Quinn. "She's a very kind mistress," Rachel said. Lady Angeline scoffed and made Rachel frown.

"Well, she can be kind to you, but let's be honest here," Lady Angeline said with a shrug and a mocking scowl. "She isn't kind at all to those poor slaves she uses and sells as mere products," she said. Rachel knew exactly what Lady Angeline was doing. How she was trying to get Rachel away from Quinn. It would never work.

"Yeah, nobody's perfect," Rachel mumbled, deviating her look and resuming scrubbing. Lady Angeline sat on the step by the door and Rachel had to suppress a groan. Just when she thought the woman was about to leave, she sat down.

"You sure changed your mind, haven't you?" Lady Angeline said, raising one eyebrow. "It's almost like you're a whole different girl from the one I had to help out when Quinn decided she would like to _mark_ her new toy." Again, she knew what Lady Angeline was doing. Still, it didn't make the sting she felt on her scar hurt any less.

"She has changed too," Rachel answered with another shrug. She was barely saying anything, but she still felt like she was saying too much. She just wished someone would wake up and interrupt them. Anyone.

"Has she?" Lady Angeline asked, pushing her once again. Rachel didn't answer this time. She knew it would be too suspicious if she defended Quinn too much. Lady Angeline got up and Rachel swallowed hard. She took a few steps forward and Rachel gripped the sheets tighter in her hands. "I've missed you," she said. Rachel didn't say anything, and scrubbed the sheets harder in hope that the loud noise would stop Lady Angeline from saying anything else. Of course it didn't. "Haven't you missed me?" she asked.

"That's not appropriated, milady," Rachel answered beneath her breath. It was better than the outright _no_ she would have answered if she knew her role didn't allow her.

"You used to like me, Rachel," Lady Angeline stated. "Why are you acting so different now?" she asked. "I could be so much better to you than she is," she said, her voice lower than it had been before. "You know I can. I have never hurt you like she has," she whispered.

Rachel could think of about a billion things to answer her but again, she wasn't allowed to say any of those. When she was living through hell, having Lady Angeline's help had been a blessing. When she was finally better and able to see things more clear, she realized Lady Angeline had been exactly like every other men in Rachel's life. They were only nice to her because they wanted her. She had felt safe with Lady Angeline because she never thought a woman would do the same thing. She couldn't be more wrong. Lady Angeline had never hurt her like Quinn had. But she had never loved Rachel like Quinn had either. Rachel dropped a bucket of clean water over the sheet, rinsing away the bubbles and then hang the sheet on the clothes line.

"Can I help you with anything, milady?" Rachel asked politely, ignoring Lady's Angeline previous question as she rubbed her hand dry on her apron. Lady Angeline returned her question with a smirk that made Rachel's stomach churn. She surely would have been nauseated if she had had breakfast already. "If you don't need anything, I'm afraid I must go. I need to prepare Quinn's breakfast," she said. "Excuse me."

* * *

"Why does this soup tastes so weird?" Quinn whined, twisting her face in disgusted once she saw Abbie leaving the room. The soup tasted terrible, but she didn't want Abbie to be offended. She knew no one would be able to answer her, because while everyone ate the best smelling duck, she was the only one stuck with a plate of soup.

"I asked Abbie to put some extra garlic and ginger on it," George said, silently cutting his meat. Quinn glared at him with a frown, and he chuckled. "It will make you feel better faster," he explained with a shrug. She took another spoon of it, and it didn't taste any better.

"Better from what?" Judy asked, quirking one eyebrow up. Quinn didn't even answer. It had been her way of dealing with her mother lately, just ignoring her.

"Quinn has the yellow fever," George answered. He always did. Quinn still didn't understand how someone could be nice enough to have patience for both her mother and aunt.

"No, she doesn't," Lady Angeline scoffed, breaking onto a laugh. George frowned, Quinn just rolled her eyes. "Yellow fever brings you down completely," she said. "She's fine, she's just being dramatic to get you all to forget what she's doing."

"Oh, look who's talking! The one and only Virgin Mary!" Quinn said, mocking her aunt. Her mother choked on her food, offended by the use of a holy name in such context. "Please, aunt Angeline. Let's not act like you have any principles. It's not like you pay your slaves for their work back in America," she said with a fake smile, bringing another spoonful of her soup to her mouth.

"Well, at least that's the only thing _I_ use my slaves for," Lady Angeline said, smiling back. Quinn choked on her soup and started to cough. She looked over to George, but he was just as surprised as she was.

"What are you talking about?" Judy asked with a frown, looking from side to side and watching the different reactions from everyone at the table.

"Oh, Judy, please!" Lady Angeline rolled her eyes. Quinn stared at George, hoping he would once more save his ass, but he just waited. Both of them knew it could be worse if they tried to argue back. "That has got old already, you know? This whole pretending not to know what happens in your own house. I mean, it's not like they even hide it anymore," she said.

"What is she talking about, George?" Judy asked, making her tone firmer than it had been in a very long time. Quinn had taken advantage of the fact her mother couldn't boss her around anymore, and Judy had been almost behaving.

"I have no idea, mother," George said, knitting his eyebrows together and looking at his aunt with the most threatening glare Quinn had ever seen on his eyes.

Lady Angeline shrugged with a smug smile and placed her napkin back on her lap before closing her mouth and pretending to lock it with a key and throw it behind her back. It was childish and ridiculous and Quinn wanted nothing more than to jump at the woman's jugular and rip it apart with the knife by her plate's side.

"Excuse me, I'm not feeling well," Quinn murmured, getting up and running back to her room.

* * *

"Miss Quinn?" Lou Lee asked in a murmur, opening the door half way opened to check if she could come in. Quinn laid down and Rachel sat by her side with a pile of wet rags that she placed on Quinn's forehead to make sure her fever wouldn't rise again. "Mr. Lewis is here to see you, should I tell him it isn't a good time?" she asked. Quinn pursued her lips pondering, but ended up sighing.

"No," she said. "Just tell him to come in," she said. She wasn't exactly comfortable in receiving a man in her room, but she didn't feel well enough to walk her way to her office and she was just too curious to know if they had received any offers on the farm already.

"I'm gonna go grab some tea for you," Rachel said, getting up and patting her apron down. Quinn grabbed her hand before she could move further away.

"You can stay," she said. Quinn always learned from her mistakes. She wouldn't let Rachel feel like Quinn was shutting her out of the business again. She didn't have anything to hide anymore. "Let's hear what he has to say," Quinn said. Rachel nodded with the sweetest smile, and it almost enough to make Quinn want to get up just to drop a kiss on her face. Rachel took a few steps back and stopped by the window, where she wouldn't interrupt, just as Lewis knocked on the door. "Come in," Quinn said.

"Hello, Quinn," he said, bowing down and taking off his hat. He placed it on the doorknob and pulled a chair from near the fireplace, putting it by Quinn's bed side as if he was at his own house. "I've heard you haven't been feeling well. I apologize to come in a moment like this," he said.

"I'm feeling a little better already," Quinn said, waving her hand dismissively and fixing herself up on the bed. "I wanna see what you've got," she said, rubbing her hands together excitedly. The excitement died fast when she saw the look in his face. "What is it?" she asked.

"News travel fast," he said with a sympathetic pout. "Apparently people are more aware of the financial situation of this farm than I thought so. I have got one offer, and it isn't as good as I thought it would be," he said, getting some paper out of his briefcase and laying it on the bed. "This is the discrimination of how much they're willing to pay. You're basically only getting money for the slaves, the animals and the house. All this land would be going essentially for free, because well, no one wants land where they can't grow anything," he said.

Quinn nodded quietly, feeling her chest getting tighter. It hurt to see all the efforts from a life time, everything her father worked so hard on, being worth so little. She knew they wouldn't be getting a lot of money out of it, but she never imagined it would be so little. But she had made a decision. She had promised Rachel. Oliver was her priority, and the longer he was at the farm the riskier it could become. They were counting on luck and that had just never been on their side. Quinn looked up to find Rachel's eyes. She was ready to agree with the offer - but Rachel had her eyes wide opened and shook her head viciously. Quinn frowned. Lewis noticed it and looked back, frowning too when he saw Rachel.

"Look, you don't have to decide right now," he said, piling up the papers and setting it on Quinn's nightstand. "I have got to leave because there is a huge storm coming and my wife will kill me if I'm not home before it arrives, but I'll leave the papers here so that you can go over them again. Perhaps you could show your mother and see if she doesn't have any friends who would like to give an offer too," he said.

"My mother still doesn't know about this," Quinn said, afraid he could mention something to her. "I would rather have it stay that way, for now," she clarified. He nodded.

"That's perfectly fine," he said. "Anyway, I'll leave the papers with you and I'll come back in a couple days. You can take your time to think until then," said Lewis. He waved his goodbyes and left, leaving Quinn alone with Rachel again. Rachel walked over to Quinn's side and grabbed the papers, reading them carefully. Quinn smiled. It felt nice to see the money she was spending with Rachel's classes had a good reason.

"What happened?" Quinn asked, resting her hand on Rachel's thigh. "I thought you said we should leave as soon as possible," she said. "I know it's not a lot of money, but it's enough Rachel. We can buy a small house in New York and still have some savings to live off until I figure out how we can make money there," she said.

"I know, it's just-" Rachel stopped herself, shaking her head and grabbing Quinn's hand. "I don't know. Perhaps we should think a little more. It's such a big decision. I know I said we should go, but perhaps we could get a doctor to stay in here instead?" she said with a nervous smile.

"And how would we get money?" Quinn asked, pulling Rachel closer to sit on the bed with her. "Look, you don't need to worry. I don't want you to feel like this is all on you, I know that would be a lot of pressure. _I_ don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to live knowing that I'm hurting so many people. I know it was your idea so you might feel like it's too much responsibility - like I could blame you if things didn't turn out alright - but I won't. I want this. I want a brand new start with you and Oliver in a place where we won't have to worry so much about hiding and where I'll be able to sleep assured that if anything happens he will have all the help he needs."

"Yeah?" Rachel asked, smiling shyly with just the corner of her mouth. Quinn nodded and Rachel leaned in, nuzzling their noses together. "Let's just wait those couple days, then," said Rachel. "I mean, what if we get a better offer in the meantime, right?" she said, giving Quinn the shoulders. Quinn giggled. She didn't think so, but it wouldn't hurt to wait for so little - especially if she knew it would make Rachel calmer.

"Whatever you say, milady," Quinn said playfully and Rachel rolled her eyes - but kissed Quinn nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're only a couple chapters away from the ending! Don't forget to comment :)


	32. Chapter 32

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

“I’m glad to see you’re all better,” George said as Quinn walked in the drawing room for tea. Rachel followed behind, but even though nor Judy or Lady Angeline were there, she didn’t sit down. Quinn hated that they had to be so careful all the time. It was just one of the things that would change as soon as they moved, and she honestly couldn’t wait for it. “Arabella and I are planning on leaving tonight after dinner, since you won’t need me anymore,” he said.

“With this weather? Are you insane?” Quinn asked, pointing her finger to the window on their right. A huge storm had arrived the night before and it seemed to get worst with each past minute. The wind howled nonstop and the rain hit the windows so loudly at night that Quinn had had a hard time falling asleep. 

“You can’t leave!” Rachel said with her eyes bulged out. George and Quinn were surprised to hear her talking. She never did so, unless they had the doors closed. She looked around to see if anyone else had appeared in the room, and went on when she knew they were alone. “There’s a hurricane coming,” she said in a whisper. 

“A hurricane?” George asked, setting his teacup down at the table and turning towards Rachel. Rachel nodded firmly and Quinn tensed up. 

“How do you know?” Quinn asked, reaching out her hand for Rachel to grab and come closer to them. Rachel took a few steps forward, but didn’t grab Quinn’s hand. Not where everyone could see them.

“Slaves know that kind of stuff,” she said with a small shrug. Quinn frowned in confusion and Rachel sighed before explaining, as if it sounded too obvious to her. “You learn to feel when those things are coming when you work so close to the nature. They have been talking about that for days down the quarters. I have heard the rumors and it’s supposed to be a pretty big hurricane. Everyone is scared down there,” she said.

The last thing Quinn wanted to do was to underestimate Rachel, but she had always been skeptical. She doubted that someone could simply feel when a hurricane was coming. Still, when she looked out of the window and saw the former steady palm trees swaying as if they danced ballet, something inside of her told her that, once again, Rachel would be right. But even if she weren’t, it was better to be safe than sorry. 

“Then you can’t leave,” Quinn told George. “Wait at least until tomorrow to see if the rain will stop,” she said.

“Alright, I’ll talk to Arabella and see if she agrees on staying,” he said, getting up from the armchair and buttoning up his blazer. “Rachel, keep us posted if you hear anything else, will you?” he asked. Rachel nodded. 

* * *

 

“I’m getting nervous,” Quinn said, pulling her bedroom’s curtain to peek outside. “The winds are getting even stronger. I have never seen those trees bending that much.” 

“You’re right,” Rachel said, sitting by the fire and rubbing her hands together. “It’s gonna hit us before the next sunrise. The air is feeling too light, it must be pretty close.” Quinn nodded, but she had no idea what Rachel was talking about. She took a deep breath, trying to feel what Rachel was talking about, but nothing felt different for her. “I’m worried about the slaves down the quarters,” she said.

“Why?” Quinn asked, walking towards her and sitting on the arm of Rachel’s chair. Rachel wrapped an arm around Quinn’s waist and smiled at her. Quinn felt a condescending overtone in Rachel’s smile and almost felt guilty for not knowing what Rachel meant.

“This house is made out of bricks. It will probably keep us safe, even if the hurricane is a big one” she said, running a hand along Quinn’s arm. “The quarters and the kitchen house aren’t as sturdy. Things could go bad very quickly down there if the hurricane hits us hard.”

Quinn felt the dumbest for never thinking of that. The farm had been hit by many hurricanes before, but never once she heard anyone talking about that. Of course, her parents had never cared about the slaves. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that on her own sooner. If she was scared being inside such a big house, she couldn’t even imagine how the slaves felt in their tiny bedrooms. 

“Let’s go get them,” Quinn said, getting up and walking towards her closet to try to find her raincoat. It was useless, she could never find anything in there. Rachel was always the one to pick her clothes. 

“What?” Rachel asked in surprise, following her into the closet. Quinn grabbed the first pair of boots she found and handed them to Rachel. “What are you doing?” Rachel asked again.

“Grab me a raincoat. I’m gonna go down there to get them and bring them here so that they can be safe too,” Quinn said, sitting on the floor and untying her shoe. Rachel’s eyes went wide, but she kneeled on the floor and started to help.

“Quinn, you can’t walk down there! The wind would throw you miles away!” Rachel said. She had not agreed with Quinn, but she still helped her put on the boots.

“I’m gonna ride Star,” she said. It would be easier than trying to walk against the rain and winds. Perhaps she could try to get Star inside too - she wasn’t sure the stable was sturdy enough either. God, how had she never thought of that before? She loved her horse. How many hurricanes had her horse been hit by, all alone in a stable? It hurt her inside to realize how selfish she had been.

“I’m coming with you, then,” Rachel said, untying her apron and throwing it onto the ground.

“Rachel, you don’t have to. I’ll go and you stay here with Ollie!” Quinn said. She didn’t want to put Rachel in danger, but she knew Rachel wouldn’t agree on staying.

“You’re not going there alone,” she said, shaking her head. “I feel terrible for saying this, because I’m a slave too - but I don’t trust them. I won’t let you get there alone,” Rachel said. Quinn felt her stomach fluttering. She loved when Rachel was so determined. She loved when Rachel was so protective. She handed Rachel a pair of boots, too. 

The walk to the stable felt like a war. They weren’t out for more than a second and Quinn already felt her gown soaked. The raincoats were useless against the cold rain that hit them. Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand to make sure the wind wouldn’t drift them apart and they ran their way down. Quinn breathed out in relief to see everything was still okay inside the stable. The horses were dry, although many of them felt more agitated than usual. Perhaps they felt the hurricane coming too. Perhaps Quinn was the only who didn’t feel it.

Quinn didn’t even waste time to saddle the horses. It wasn’t comfortable to ride like that, but the raindrops hurt so much against her skin that she didn’t even focus on how it hurt to have her bones bumping on the horse’s back as Star ran her way down the hill. Ace ran close behind, with Rachel on its back. None of them seemed to mind the rain. Quinn was impressed by their strength, cutting through the rain and the wind so easily. 

Rachel was the one to get inside the quarters and tell the slaves they were supposed to go to the big house for shelter. Quinn bit her lip when she saw the surprised looks in their face as they came out into the rain. Mothers wrapped their children with blankets, and Quinn’s heart broke. She couldn’t imagine being in their place. She couldn’t imagine having to leave in the rain with Oliver. But she was helping them, and it felt good to do so. 

Rachel went in front of them, leading their way on top of Ace. The slaves all walked close to each other, protecting each other. Quinn could count at least a thousand of them. For once in her life she would see her house filled with people. For once in her life all those rooms would serve for something more than just decoration. Quinn was the last one to leave, making sure no one had been left behind before following Rachel’s lead back to the house. 

“Dorea!” Quinn exclaimed when they reached the kitchen house. Dorea put her head out of the window with her hand sheltering her eyes from the rain and jumped back on startle when she saw the so many slaves behind Quinn. “I’m taking the slaves to the mansion. There’s a hurricane coming! Go call Abbigail and Lou Lee, you shouldn’t be here either, it can be dangerous!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dorea said with a small bow of head. She was closing the window to go do as she was told, when Quinn called her again. 

“Please, bring all the blankets you have. Once you get there, grab the blankets from the guest rooms too. Everyone is wet, I don’t want them to be cold. Light up all the fireplaces and make sure they are settled comfortably, alright?” Quinn said. Dorea stood still in shock. Rachel smiled proudly. “Ask for Abbie to feed them too. I want you to treat them as you would treat any other of my guests. We have a long night ahead of us,” she said. 

Her heart was slamming against her chest. She felt a thrill she had never felt before. For once in her life, she felt like she was doing the right thing.

* * *

Quinn groaned when she heard her mother’s screams coming from down the stairs. She had barely managed to put on dry clothes and the last thing she wanted to do was to go calm her mother down, but she knew she had no other choice.

“Quinn, have you gone mad?” Judy slammed her fists against Quinn’s bedroom’s door, and Quinn took a deep breath before opening it, only to find her mother’s face in a boiling red of angerness. “Why are all the slaves sitting on my living room?”

“First of all, it’s not your living room, mother. Nothing here is yours, remember?” Quinn said, wiggling her eyebrows up as she walked passed her mother and went down to the library - the one room she had told Abbie to not let slaves in. She knew her mother wouldn’t be so keen on having slaves around and assumed if she had at least one room to herself she wouldn’t complain so much. “You may stay in here, if you want. The other rooms are gonna be fixed for the slaves to spend the night in. There’s a hurricane coming and I don’t think the quarters would be safe enough for them.”

“Oh Lord, you truly have gone mad! How could you know a hurricane is coming?” Judy asked, putting both her hands over her head. Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew her mother wouldn’t believe it if she said Rachel had told her so, so she chose to not say anything. “They have survived all the hurricanes that hit this island so far, I don’t know why this one would be different!” Her mother huffed. Lady Angeline walked inside the room, looking around with a frown of disgust. She didn’t have to say one word for Quinn to know she wasn’t very happy either.

“Mother, I’m just being careful. If nothing happens to the quarters, that’s even better. For now you have to either settle for sharing this house for one night or you can go find other place to stay. I wouldn’t advise that though, because as I have said, there’s a hurricane coming.” 

“Miss Quinn!” Lou Lee said, storming inside the library. 

“I thought you said they wouldn’t get in this room,” Lady Angeline murmured under her breath, taking a step back in surprise.

“Oh, enough from the two of you! I have more important things to worry about!” Quinn snapped. Her face softened again when she turned back to face Lou Lee. “What is it, Lou?” she asked. Her aunt quirked one eyebrow up at the nickname, but didn’t dare to say anything.

“Arabella is in labor!” Lou Lee beamed, almost as if the baby to come was from her own family. It was the kind of behavior that made Quinn sure she was doing the right thing. Those slaves were so loyal and kind to her family that she knew she could never repay them. “George told me to let you know. Abbie and my mother are already upstairs aiding her, so I’ll be taking care of the other slaves.”

“That’s great!” Quinn answered with a big grin and a nod. She hadn’t been so fond of Arabella at first, but the woman had certainly grown on her once Quinn saw how well she treated George. The way she embraced Rachel into the family without asking any questions was sure a point to her side as well. “Where are Ollie and Bernie?” Quinn asked in concern.

“They’re asleep, but Rachel is keeping an eye on them at the nursery,” Lou Lee answered with a small bow of her head.

“Well, I should go and check on my daughter-in-law, then,” Judy said, walking towards the door. Quinn grabbed her fist to stop her, but she yanked it free as her mouth fell open at Quinn’s audacity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“They haven’t asked for you, mother. I’m sure they will if you’re needed, but until then, please stay here. There’s enough going on in this house, I’m sure no one needs you running around and agitating things even more,” Quinn said. Judy crossed her arms and sat down, much like a spoiled child, and Lady Angeline did the same. Quinn wanted to get away from there and just go stay with Rachel at the nursery, but something told her she shouldn’t leave the two woman alone. 

“Slaves helping to deliver a white baby,” Lady Angeline whispered, shaking her head. 

“What is wrong with that?” Quinn asked, leaning against a bookshelf. She knew she still had many hours to go in that room with her aunt and that it would just be easier if she didn’t pick a fight, but she couldn’t stop herself. It didn’t feel right to just stay quiet and listen to words like those. If she didn’t say anything, she was being complacent. “A slave helped deliver me,” she said with a shrug. 

“Yes, we all know how _that_ turned out,” Lady Angeline said with a giggle. Both Judy and Quinn frowned, not quite catching what she wanted to say. Lady Angeline rolled her eyes and explained herself. Quinn wished she hadn’t. “You’re not supposed to create that kind of bond with slaves, especially this early in life. That’s probably why you have such a hard time putting them on their place.”

“You’re vile, aunt Angeline,” Quinn said with a groan. “Abbie and Dorea are amazing people. They helped deliver Oliver and even George was able to admit he didn’t have as much knowledge in the matter as they did,” she said. 

“Well, that sure wasn’t a good idea! What is wrong with that child?” Lady Angeline asked, cringing. Quinn’s mouth hung open. Everyone had noticed something odd about Oliver, but no one had been brave enough to voice it - at least not in front of Quinn. Lady Angeline had been the first, and Quinn would make sure she was the last. “He’s hideous!”

“I’m sorry, but if that’s what you think perhaps you just shouldn’t come to this farm anymore,” Quinn said, biting her inner cheeks. She had to act collected, but inside all she wanted was to rip Lady Angeline’s throat apart. “Let’s be honest here, there’s no reason for it. I sure won’t miss you. You can visit George in Basseterre and my mother can go meet you there, although we all know you two aren’t as close as you pretend to be. Why else would you need to come all the way here?”

“You’re right, Quinn,” Lady Angeline said, crossing her hands atop of her lap. Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. She knew it wouldn’t be just that. She knew she wouldn’t be let go so easily. “I’ll make sure to leave as soon as the hurricane has passed, now that I know I’m not welcomed. Please, send my regards to that slave of yours. I’m sure _she_ will miss me, although you can try to make up for that absence.”

“Quinn, what is going on?” Judy got up to her feet, walking towards Quinn with more anger than Quinn had seen in a good while. “This is _not_ the first time someone implies you have something going on with that slave. What is happening?”

“Nothing is happening, mother,” Quinn growled between her teeth. “She’s just trying to get you against me, can’t you see that? We all know who is the sinner in this room.” It hurt her to say so, but she knew she had to take a step forward if she wanted her mother to believe her.

“You better not be lying to me, Quinn, otherwise-“ Judy threatened her, raising her hand in front of Quinn’s face. Quinn grabbed her hand again, but she didn’t yank it this time.

“Otherwise what, mother?” Quinn asked, gripping tighter on her mother’s wrist. “You can’t threaten me anymore. You don’t control me anymore. Stop acting like you have a say on anything that happens in this farm, or you might be the next one to be forbidden to get in here,” she said.

“Otherwise I’ll kill you, Quinn,” Judy whispered in a way not even Lady Angeline would be able to hear. Quinn wouldn’t even have witnesses to those words, in case something happened in the future. “Everyday I regret putting you in this world. It would be the last straw I need to take you out of it.” 

* * *

“Quinn! Come on in, come meet your beautiful niece!” said George when Quinn appeared on the door once Abbie told her the baby had been born. Rachel hid behind the door - she wanted to see the baby, but she didn’t know if she was welcome. Arabella had always been nice to her, but it was hard to know what the boundaries were. She wasn’t exactly family. Quinn came inside, and soon Rachel heard. “Where’s Rachel? Bring her in too!” George said. Rachel’s smile lit up.

“Oh dear Lord! She’s beautiful!” Quinn said, coming inside and pulling a chair to sit by Arabella’s side. Arabella looked up to Quinn with a grin and Rachel stepped closer. It felt like a hundred years since Oliver had been born but at the same time he still looked so small in her arms. Yet, it didn’t matter how much time passed, she would never forget the feeling - the feeling that Arabella also felt in that moment. A feeling that came to every woman who held their baby for the first time, regardless of their race or status. A love that could never be measured. “George, she looks just like you!” 

“Doesn’t she?” Arabella squealed. Rachel giggled and placed one hand on Quinn’s shoulder to look at the baby. It was indeed a beautiful baby. All her features laid perfectly on her face. Her nose wasn’t smashed. She was perfect, in a way Oliver would never be. That didn’t make Rachel love him any less. In fact, something made Rachel feel like she loved Oliver even more once she found out he wasn’t like all the other babies. “That’s because you haven’t seen her eyes! They’re bright blue, just like George’s!” said Arabella. Her voice carried a pride that Rachel knew well.

“What’s her name?” Rachel asked in a whisper. She wouldn’t want to wake up the baby who slept so peacefully in Arabella’s arms. 

“Matilda,” George answered with a smile. Arabella nodded. “We’re calling her Tilly for now, though. Matilda sounds just too serious for a baby this small,” he said, grabbing the Matilda’s hand between his fingers and squeezing it gently. The baby squirmed, but smiled. Everyone else smiled along. It was the magical effect babies had, of always making everyone happier and carefree.

“It suits her perfectly,” Quinn said with a giggle, but took a deep breath and straightened herself on the chair. Rachel frowned, feeling Quinn’s mood shifting. “Are you still planning on going to America?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Arabella said firmly with a nod. “We’re gonna wait a month or so, until she’s just a little bit older and stronger to endure the trip, but we are definitely going as soon as we can. We just don’t feel like this is the right place to raise a baby,” she shrugged with a sad smile, as if she pitied Rachel for not being able to do the same. “We still think you should come with us,” Arabella said. 

“Yes, precisely,” Quinn said, nodding along. “We’re going. I think Oliver will be better assisted there. I got an offer for the farm and I think I’m gonna sell it. Things really aren’t going well around here, so we’re gonna be moving with not a lot of money. What are your plans, once we get there?” she asked. Rachel’s heart raced. She, more than anyone, knew how hard it was for Quinn to give up control. She was willing to move to wherever her brother said so, just to be certain Oliver would have a doctor by his side at all times. Rachel didn’t know how she could love Quinn any more, but it always grew.

“Quinn, that’s wonderful!” George said, getting up to his feet in excitement. He ran to his briefcase and grabbed a few papers, bringing them for Quinn to check. “Here, look at this. I have a friend from school who has moved to New York and he bought a small building in a nice neighborhood in the city. We were thinking of renting an apartment there at first, to see how things go before we buy anything. It’s very small, I mean, it has just two bedrooms, but we don’t really need anything bigger than that. Especially since we won’t have anyone to help us with house chores,” he said, narrowing his eyes towards Quinn. It was a question, of whether she would be bringing Rachel as a slave or as something else. Rachel didn’t know the answer to that either. Quinn nodded, either ignoring or not understanding the implied question, and George went on. “It really isn’t expensive, I’m sure you could rent one of those too. It would be a dream to live this close to you!” 

“Can I keep one of those? To read it more carefully later,” Quinn asked, holding up one of the paper sheets. George nodded with his biggest smile. Rachel’s stomach fluttered with excitement too. They had been talking about moving for a while, but it had never sounded so concrete. “How do you plan on making money, though?” she asked. “I mean, we will have money to last for a year or so if we don’t splurge, but what about after that?”

“Well, I’m a doctor, I can move my work with me,” he said with a shy smile, not trying to sound condescending. “I can definitely give you a hand in case you ever need money, you don’t have to worry about that. But I’m sure you will find something you can do. It’s a big city, there’s gonna be opportunities everywhere. You could buy a small market or a store, that could give you some security,” he said. Quinn nodded again. Rachel could almost see all the thoughts running like mad inside of Quinn’s head. She rubbed Quinn’s shoulder softly and Quinn looked up to her with a smile that was only meant to her.

“Alright. Just keep me posted on what you are planning, okay?” Quinn said, and Arabella nodded excitedly. It was heart warming to know that they had people who were so happy to be by their side. Rachel didn’t always know what the boundaries were, but she sure felt like family sometimes. “We’re gonna go to give you guys some rest. If you need anything, just call Lou Lee. She can help if Tilly gives you a hard time,” she said with a grin, although all of them knew Arabella and George wouldn’t call anyone. They had meant it when they said they didn’t want their baby to know slavery. “Stay safe,” she said, getting up and grabbing Rachel’s hand to head out. It still felt weird to have Quinn hold her hand in front of other people, even if Rachel trusted George almost as much as she trusted Quinn. 

“Hey, Quinn?” George called out, before they left the room. Quinn turned back to face him. “It was really nice what you did, bringing all the slaves up here. I’m really proud of you,” he said. Quinn didn’t say anything back, she just smiled and acknowledged the compliment with a small bow. She hadn’t done so to earn compliments. She had done so because she had finally learned how to feel empathy. George was proud of her, but he would never know the amount of pride Rachel carried.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn were cuddled up in bed for what it felt like hours, but with each lightning strike and thunder Rachel would jump and get startled. There was no way Quinn would be able to fall asleep like that. Another thunder growled in the sky, and Rachel groaned, burying her head on Quinn’s neck.

“Do you think Oliver is okay? He’s probably awake because of all this noise,” Rachel murmured. It was so very clear that Rachel was projecting her on fears on to Oliver that Quinn wouldn’t help but giggle. Rachel pouted, and it only made Quinn want to giggle more.

“Oliver is fine, love,” Quinn answered, dropping a kiss on Rachel’s forehead. “That’s the beauty of him. He is probably just sleeping and dreaming in his own little world, without caring at all about what’s happening outside. You should try to do the same,” she said. 

“I know, but I’m scared,” Rachel sighed. Quinn was surprised to realize that she, on the other hand, wasn’t scared at all. Everyone she loved was safe and together inside a house that was sturdy enough to resist even the worst weathers. The rest of the world could crumble down to pieces, and she wouldn’t care one bit. 

“I know what we can do to distract you from the storm outside,” Quinn said in a warm whisper and Rachel looked up instantly with growing eyes. A smirk came to her lips and it made Quinn’s heart skip a bit. They hadn’t been together as frequently since Oliver had been born and somehow that only made their moments together feel more special. 

Rachel’s hand moved to where her face had rested, right on Quinn’s shoulder, and her nails scratched the thin skin making Quinn bite back the smile that had been on her lips. Nothing would ever beat the feeling of being completely at Rachel’s mercy. She had to stop herself from the embarrassment of letting out a moan because of such a small action, but Rachel noticed her response. She always did, which is precisely why they worked so well. Rachel could read every flinch of Quinn’s body and know exactly how far she could go. 

Their lips met by instinct and their bodies swayed together like in a dance. In a matter of seconds the lightning strikes were nothing more than an audience to the smell of love that filled the room. Rachel pulled down Quinn’s gown without ever letting go of her mouth. Those were the kisses that gave meaning to Quinn’s life. The kisses that lasted forever and got her lips feeling numb. The kisses with small bites that left Quinn’s lips feeling sore the next day, a gentle reminder that Rachel was real and Rachel was hers. 

Quinn would never understand how something could hurt so good. How Rachel could slap her skin raw and instead of trying to stop, her body would just stay still asking for more. Her flesh was bright pink, but it never felt like enough. She murmured obscenities just to have Rachel murmuring it back. She cursed indecencies to have Rachel shutting her up. She jolted her hips up to have Rachel’s hand finally where she most wanted and needed. 

Being in the eye of a hurricane had never been such a literal feeling. The winds howling outside could easily be mistaken by Quinn’s loud moans. She felt like the whole bedroom spun with every spin of Rachel’s finger around her clit. Rachel spun faster, but not fast enough. Never fast enough. Rachel knew just when to stop, to drive Quinn right by the edge but never let her go completely. It was frustrating. It was torturing. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Quinn.

Quinn grabbed her own breast, but only for a second. Rachel wouldn’t let her. Her body was Rachel’s and she claimed every inch of it. Rachel bit her hard. She saw stars behind her eyelids. She felt tears pooling in her eyes. She felt something else pooling between her legs. She whispered.

“Fuck yes, bite me again.”

Rachel did, and pushed her fingers firm and hard inside Quinn. It was all too much. It was always too much. It was just how they were. It wouldn’t be them if everything was just nice and easy. Rachel pushed harder and each thrust felt like heaven and hell all at once. A hurricane wasn’t anything. A hurricane couldn’t bring her down like Rachel could. Quinn got further than she ever thought she could be and she knew it was the furthest she would get. Rachel somehow knew it too, and let her go. 

She had felt good earlier that day when she let the slaves and knew she was doing the right thing. She had felt amazing when she had George acknowledging her actions. But she never felt as great and powerful as she did as she fell down back onto Rachel’s arms. Everything always came down to Rachel. If it weren’t for Rachel, Quinn wouldn’t have grown to see how her actions had been wrong all along. If it weren’t for Rachel, she wouldn’t have realized how _she_ wasn’t exactly _right_ either, and how delicious it felt to be wrong in that particular matter. Rachel had changed her. Rachel had saved her. And it was time to give it back.

Quinn took a few short breaths, to gather the air her lungs had lost, and flipped to fall on top of Rachel. Rachel took her gown down on her own and didn’t blush at all while Quinn watched her. There was no more inhibitions between two bodies that knew the other like their own. Quinn leaned forward to take Rachel’s lips again and let her tongue spell the love she felt for Rachel right inside her mouth. 

Rachel was the one to moan this time. The winds howled again. None of them heard the knock on the door. Quinn let out a shaky breath when her knee fell in between Rachel’s leg. Skin against skin, they were just too caught up within themselves. The hurricane that swirled outside couldn’t swipe them away - but other things could. 

The door opened. Quinn pulled the covers over themselves, but not fast enough. Never fast enough. Judy’s whole face was on fire and Quinn’s mouth felt lifeless, unable to form one whole comprehensible sentence. Judy left without a word. Words would be meaningless by then. Quinn didn’t need them to know what it all meant. 

It was the end. Their end. Her end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the end of the story though! We still have one chapter and one epilogue left! See you all next week :)


	33. Chapter 33

_Rose Hill, 1780_

* * *

"We need to leave," Quinn said in a whisper, hurrying out of the bed and searching around the floor for her gown. She had never been able to put it on without Rachel's help, but her shaking hands and racing heart definitely made everything more difficult.

"What?" Rachel asked confused, getting up after Quinn and helping her to get in the gown. "Quinn, calm down. She's gone!" she said with a nervous giggle. Quinn turned to check if the door was closed again. They always locked the door. How could they have forgotten it?

"No, I can't calm down. Really. She'll be back soon. We can't stay in here, Rachel, we need to leave!" Quinn said nervously, shaking her head and waving her hands in front of her body as she looked around the room although not even she knew what she was looking for.

"Leave to where?" Rachel asked. Quinn could see she was starting to get Rachel worried, but there was nothing she could do. She wasn't able to calm herself down, she wouldn't be able to do so for Rachel either.

"America. We're gonna have to go earlier. We need to get far, far away from here. From her," Quinn said, getting inside her closet and kneeling on the floor to open the heavy safety locket to get the little money she had saved.

"Quinn, this is insane. We're not even sure if she saw something! She didn't say anything!" Rachel said. Quinn stopped to look at Rachel's face, and her look said it all. Rachel shut her lips and bit them down. There was no way she could have opened the door and not seen what they had been doing. "Still, Quinn! She can't do anything, it's your farm! I doubt she'll even tell anyone!"

"Rachel, you don't know her, you don't know what she's capable of. We can't stay here anymore. We can't risk to face her tomorrow and see what she'll do about it, it's just too dangerous!" Quinn murmured, not sure if she was talking to herself or to Rachel. Her spine shivered only thinking what could be the possible outcomes. It sure wouldn't be a peaceful breakfast when morning came.

"But it's dangerous for us to leave like this, too! We don't have anything planned and you still didn't sell the farm and we didn't even pack our things to take with us!" Rachel cried out nervously, attempting to go through Quinn's gowns and start to packing them. Although she didn't agree with Quinn, Quinn knew she would never let Quinn go alone.

"No, stop!" Quinn said, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling it down. "We can't take anything with us, not even one single gown, otherwise they will know right away that we have run away. We need them to wonder where we are long enough for us to be far away when they decide to go after us. We can buy new things when we get there," she said, still murmuring, afraid someone could hear them. She had no idea if the money she had saved would be enough for even their trip, let alone to allow them to buy new gowns - but she had to take a chance.

"But Quinn, you love those gowns!" Rachel stomped her feet. It was obvious that she wasn't being difficult on purpose, but was only acting out of fear. Quinn was terrified herself. "Please, let's think a little before we make any harsh decisions," she said.

"Rachel, you don't have to be nervous, okay?" Quinn tried to soothe her, but it was hard when her own words came out so shaky. "This is what you always wanted. We're going to America and we're not gonna have to worry about anything or anyone and Oliver will have everything he needs!"

"I just didn't want it to be this hushed," Rachel cried out. Quinn watched her lips starting to tremble and silently prayed that Rachel wouldn't start crying. She didn't know if she was strong enough to see it at that moment. "What about my father? I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye!"

"I promise you the second we get the money from selling the farm I'll get him to come to America and meet us there, okay?" Quinn tried, but Rachel still looked hesitant. Her eyes were starting to fill up and they looked needier than Quinn had ever seen them. It hurt more that she knew exactly what Rachel needed. The truth, although it was so difficult for Quinn to say it. "Rach, do you trust me?" she asked.

"Of course I do," Rachel said with a small sob, looking down to her feet. Quinn grabbed her chin to connect their eyes again. She needed Rachel to be fully committed to it if they were going to leave as runaways. She had no idea what their life would be like and she needed to know Rachel was coming because she wanted to, and not because she felt forced.

"Then come with me," Quinn murmured. "I promise you, I'm not doing this because of me. I don't care about her. She has told me she would kill me and I know what she's capable of, but I don't care. I wouldn't mind dying. But I can't even think of what it would be like if she did anything to you or to Ollie. You two are everything to me and I don't want to stay here for one more second if it means it is one second of you being at risk. It's even worse because aunt Angeline is here and you know how much she wants us to be apart!"

Rachel took a deep breath and searched for something more on Quinn's eyes, but that was it. Quinn had opened up all her fears to her. She could see Rachel's mind working back and forth and although she was still scared, Quinn could see she believed her. They were scared, but they were together. And as long as they were together, they knew they would find a way.

"Can I still say goodbye to Abbie and Dorea and Lou Lee?" Rachel murmured, finally letting a shy tear escape out of her eyes. Quinn took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around Rachel. It was harder for Rachel to leave. Quinn didn't have no one she cared, besides her brother, who was coming to America too, sooner or later. Rachel didn't have a lot of people either, but she cared deeply about them and Quinn knew it would be hard for her to deal with the fact she might never see them again.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed. It wasn't the best idea. The least people knew, the safer everyone would be. But she couldn't deny the one thing Rachel had asked of her after giving her such a vote of confidence. "Just tell them to keep the secret, okay? I wouldn't want anything happening to them," she said.

* * *

"Quinn?" George asked, narrowing his eyes towards the door where Quinn peeked her head inside. "What are you doing awake at this time?" he asked in a murmur, gently rocking Matilda on his arms as he sat by the fire while Arabella slept soundly. The familiarity of the scene cut Quinn like a knife. She had many times stayed awake just admiring Ollie while Rachel slept. It felt weird to know she would very likely never see the walls of those rooms again.

"I need your help," she whispered. Something about her voice must have shown George how serious the subject was, because he set Matilda down at the bassinet by the bed at once and followed Quinn out of the bedroom and into her office. He sat down across the desk, but Quinn wouldn't stop pacing back and forth. It was so shameful to tell him what happened and yet, again, she had no other options. She hated to feel so out of control.

"Please, tell me what's going on!" he pleaded, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to make her stand still. Quinn sighed deeply and sat down on the chair in front of him. She let her muscles relax and instantly felt the tears creeping up to her eyes, but she couldn't. Not yet. She still have too many things to solve before she could just let herself cry.

"Mother walked in on Rachel and me together," she whispered, avoiding his eyes but still able to see his mouth falling open with a gasp of surprise. He murmured an apology, as if it could ever have been his fault. She ignored it. She had no time to heartfelt moments. If she wanted to be out of that farm before sunrise, she had to focus on a plan. "We're leaving. We're going to America tonight."

"Quinn, are you insane? You can't do that!" he said and Quinn groaned inside. She hated that she had one more person to convince. She hated that this wasn't the kind of decision she could simply take and deal with it on her own. She hated to feel like she needed someone's help, even if it was her brother's, one of the few people she trusted.

"Mother and aunt Angeline are gonna kill me, George. Or worse, they'll sell Rachel and they'll sell Oliver and I'm never gonna see them again. That is if they decide to let them live! I can't risk that. I have made my decision and nothing you say will make me change my mind. I need your help on the execution of my plan and that's it. If you're not willing to do so, I'll try to find someone else," she said with a shrug. It was harsh and it was rude but she knew it was the only way she could make him understand how serious she was. And indeed it was.

"What do you need?" he asked in a whisper, letting his head fall onto his hands and massaging his temples. She knew it was cruel to throw all of that on to his shoulder's so late at night, especially after such a huge night for him. But she had been lying. If he wasn't willing to help her, she had no one else to run to.

"First of all, I need you to give me all the details about your friend from New York. I need his name and his address and a way of finding him as soon as I get there, so that I can assure we have somewhere to stay," she said. Before she was even done talking, George had grabbed a slip of paper from the desk and started to write down everything she asked.

"Done," he said, handing her the piece of paper. "What else?"

"I need to know how I can get there," Quinn said in a whisper. She felt ridiculous for having to ask that. Her brother had left the island and lived all the way in London and Quinn didn't even know how to get to a sea port. George grabbed another slip of paper and started to write down again.

"Tell Hank to drive you to the docks. I trust him fully and I know he won't tell on you. Once you're there, ask for Mr. Bates and tell him you're my sister. He sails ships to America every week with barrels of sugar. If he doesn't have one for this morning, he will find someone that will take you. You gotta know though, Quinn, this won't be a nice vacation trip. The conditions on those ships are far from ideal," he said carefully.

"Yes, I'm aware," Quinn said with a sigh, getting up to get some papers from a drawer. "How much do you think that will cost?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said, biting his inner cheek and thinking for a moment before going on. "It shouldn't be more than 5/2/00 pounds for each one of you. He probably won't charge Oliver," George said.

"Damn it, that's still more than I thought it would be," she whispered under her breath, going over the papers on her hand and signing more than a handful of them. "Here, those are the papers of the farm's sale. Do you think you could bring me the money with you, once you come?"

"Of course I can," he said with a soft smile that was almost enough to make her feel calmer. "Do you need more money? I can give you, if you do. I know you're too proud to take it, but you can see it as a loan if it makes you feel better. You can pay me back once you get the money from the farm," he said. Quinn's heart felt tight, especially realizing how much he knew her. She would never have asked, but once he offered, she had no words to refuse. It was Rachel and Oliver's future, after all. It would take one of the biggest worries out of her head to know that she could support them until the money from the farm came.

"That would be lovely," she said in a shy whisper. He smiled again and kept going through the papers she had handed him.

"Wait, what is this?" he asked, holding out a particular piece of paper with his eyes widened. Quinn bit her lip and gave a small shrug. He smiled, but she could see in his eyes that he was worried. "Quinn, if you sign this, you'll get much less money with the sale of the farm. You know that, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "It's already signed. I couldn't leave otherwise," she said.

"New York is gonna welcome you with open arms, Quinn," he said, with the most truthful smile he could give Quinn. He meant every word, and she could only hope he was right. "It has been the most incredible journey to see you grow up and change so fast - and for the better! You're gonna be inspired everyday for living in a city that is much more liberal than this island will ever be. Everything is gonna be alright, and I can't wait to meet you there," he said. She smiled back and for a second let herself imagine the perfect scenario - but she had no time. She needed to focus.

"Listen, when mother wakes up I need you to act like you don't know anything. I'm fairly sure she won't believe you, but you need to do everything you can to buy us time. She can't reach us before we leave the island," Quinn said worriedly, but he grabbed her hand to try to reassure her.

"Don't you worry, Quinn," he said. "I'm your big brother. It's been my job to protect you, from day one. You're gonna have enough to worry about on your trip, let me worry about the ones who are staying. I'll take care of everything," said George.

"And once you get there, I don't know. I think when mother comes to visit you perhaps Rachel and I can take on a trip, to make sure we won't risk running into her on the streets," Quinn said, but George rolled his eyes.

"Quinn, now you're overthinking. That's probably not gonna happen before a year from now. I just told you, I'll take care of mother. You can go and make your life there and be happy, I'll make sure she never sees you again, if that's what you'd like," George said. Quinn finally felt like her heart had come back to its normal pace.

"How can I ever thank you?" she said in a shy whisper.

"You already have," he said, lifting up the paper in his hand again. "There's no bigger happiness for me than seeing you being able to sign this," he said. She smiled. He was right. He was always right. He was her big brothers, and that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?

They would be happy.

* * *

"Abbie, wake up," Rachel whispered, but Dorea was the first one to open her eyes. The kitchen's house bedroom wasn't big enough for her to be able to wake up only one of them - if a needle fell onto the floor, the three women were awake all at once.

"What's wrong, dear?" Dorea said, propping herself up. Rachel suppressed a sob at the endearment term, knowing it was likely the last time she would hear it. Abbie woke up soon after and rubbed her eyes open, frowning in worry when she saw the look on Rachel's face.

"I came to say goodbye," she said with a sad smile. She thought Lou Lee had been asleep, but upon hearing her words the girl flew up from her bed and to Rachel's side.

"What are you talking about? Are you insane? You can't run away! Quinn is great to you! What else could you possibly want?" Lou Lee rambled, before giving Rachel a chance to explain herself. Rachel almost wanted to giggle. She would miss this way too much.

"I'm not running away," she said, but quickly corrected herself with a shake of her head. "I mean, I am running away, but I'm doing so with Quinn. We're leaving. She's selling the farm, and we're leaving," she said. It sounded more concrete once the words slipped out of her mouth out loud. It sounded more real than hearing Quinn saying so.

"What? Why? What is going on?" Abbie asked, and for the first time, Rachel realized she hadn't thought this through sooner. She didn't think what she would tell them. She certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to tell the true, but she hated to lie to them.

"It's Quinn's choice," Rachel said with a small shrug and a smile. Saying it was Quinn's choice took the fault of her shoulders, but she didn't want them to think Quinn was doing so against her will. That's what the smile was for, to show them Rachel wasn't exactly against the idea. "It isn't so bad. It will be good for Oliver," she said. Abbie, Dorea and Lou Lee looked so pale they could almost pass as white. It made Rachel feel even closer to them. They had always felt like family, although their complexion had always been darker.

"I can't believe Bernie and Oliver won't grow up together," Lou Lee said in a shaky murmur. It broke Rachel's heart, but she kept her smile. She couldn't let herself cry. It would just make everything much harder. She couldn't cry.

"She's selling the farm?" Dorea asked in another murmur, full of hesitation and ignoring her daughter's comment. Rachel could hear the fear in her voice. Quinn wasn't perfect, but all of them knew that when it came to masters, it could get a lot worse than the few exigencies Quinn had about the slave's work. Rachel hadn't thought of that, and she damned herself for being so selfish. Things surely could go bad for her, but it could get a lot worse for the other women.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Rachel said, not sure if she was lying to herself or to them. "If anything happens, you can go look for George. I'm sure he won't let anything bad happen to you, he likes you like family," she said. Abbie nodded quietly, but everyone knew George wasn't as close to them as he was to Rachel.

"Will you come visit, though?" Lou Lee asked, and Rachel felt her heart breaking. She would take all of them with her if she could. She had spent fifteen years of her life without a family, and it tore her heart apart to have to let go of them even after only a couple of years together.

"I'm not sure," she answered with a sigh. That would certainly place as one of the most difficult moments of her life, but she didn't think lying further would help. If she fed them the hope she would come back, but never did, they wouldn't trust her anymore. They would resent her. If she didn't tell them the truth, their goodbye wouldn't be as meaningful. Lou Lee swallowed a sob and Rachel pulled all of them close to her in a tight hug. "I promise I'll write though, as soon and as frequently as I can. And please, Abbie, write me back. I need you to keep me updated on everything that goes on with all of you. You're my family, after all," she said. It was all it take. Once she felt Lou Lee's body breaking in sobs against hers, she started crying too.

It didn't take a second before Abbie and Dorea joined in. Rachel didn't know them for a long time. She didn't have the same skin color as them. She hadn't grown up with them. She spent most of her time apart from them, at the big house. Still, they were all slaves deep down. They dealt with the same prejudices and they supported each other punishment after punishment. The blood that ran in their veins wasn't the same, but their heart beat together and for each other - and especially after seeing the relationship between Quinn and her parents, she knew blood wasn't all that important. They cared and looked out for one another, and it was what family was all about.

Rachel didn't know them for a long time, but each one of them would be forever marked in her heart.

* * *

When they finally made it to the port, Quinn almost fell to her knees to cry. With everything that had went on the night before, she had almost forgotten about the hurricane - until she saw the destruction it left behind. Trees blocked the main roads. Houses were destroyed all along their way. A ship was thrown so far out from the sea that she had no idea how anything had remained intact. Still, George knew just the right person to help them. He always did, he had always been talkative and social and kept his friends close. He should have been the one to run that farm. Quinn could never had done anything if it weren't for the many contacts he gave her. But that would all be in the past, from that day on. Another person, who Quinn had never even seen before, would be running the farm that was one day her biggest dream.

It's curious how dreams can change as you grow up. When she was a child, she dreamed she could live in the kitchen house with Mama Minda and all the kids. Growing up a little, she dreamed she could have moved away to London with George. Not much after she began her studies, she dreamed to be a successful farmer, to make Rose Hill thrive and to make her family proud. That was until black hair and brown eyes swayed into her life, stealing away her heart in a way she was sure from then on she wouldn't dream of anything else but being forever with Rachel.

Quinn placed an arm around Rachel's waist protectively as Rachel climbed up the ship with Oliver still asleep and wrapped in blankets on her arms. She got strange looks from the sailors and other few passengers. She didn't mind one bit. She wouldn't have to, from then on. It was liberating, to say the least. For less money than she was expecting to pay, they got a small cabin on the lowest floor of the ship. It smelled of smoke and burnt sugar and sweat. A thick layer of dirt and dust sat upon the nightstand and for a second Quinn regretted not bringing at least a sheet for the narrow bed, because only thinking about what could have happened on top of that mattress made her want to puke. She doubted that lack of hygiene could be healthy for Oliver, so while Rachel watched the sunrise over the ocean she made sure to clean and scrub every surface on their small cabin. It was just the beginning of the so many changes in their lives. It was the least Quinn could do, when Rachel had flee away and put herself and her son in risk, just to be with her.

When she was done, she walked to the top of the ship to watch the hopeful waves by Rachel's side. She approached her from behind but regretted it when Rachel jumped in startle, although she smiled soon after realizing it was only Quinn. Quinn grabbed a handful of papers and didn't say anything before handing them to Rachel.

"What is this?" Rachel asked in a murmur, looking down to the papers. Quinn didn't say anything, so she sat down to carefully read them. She wasn't even half way done with the first page when her mouth fell open in a gasp and her eyes glistened before she looked up to Quinn. "You have freed all the slaves from the farm," she said in a shocked murmur. Quinn smiled and nodded. Rachel shook her head, still in disbelief. "Every single one of them," she whispered to herself. "Abbie, the girls, Bernie. They are all free now," she said.

"So are you," Quinn murmured back, unsure if Rachel had already realized it. Rachel kept her eyes down and Quinn gave her the time to process everything. The moment didn't feel like she expected at all. She always thought she would be terrified when she freed Rachel, but although she was scared about many aspects of their future, this wasn't one of them. She knew Rachel wouldn't leave her. She loved Rachel and she knew Rachel loved her too, and nothing felt more like freedom than that. "I hope you're still mine, though. On the other sense of the word," she said and watched a drop of tear falling on the paper and smudging the ink. It didn't matter, the official papers had been left with George. She had only brought those copies to show Rachel.

Rachel didn't say anything, but wrapped her in a hug that said it all. She thanked Quinn in all the ways she knew how to, and all the ways she could, taken that they were surrounded by many people that wouldn't judge them for her being a slave, but for both of them being woman. Quinn thanked her back. The merit was all Rachel's. Quinn changed because of her. For her.

The days and nights they would have to go through for weeks on that ship wouldn't be the best of their lives. Quinn certainly wasn't used to the so little comfort and luxury, but she didn't complain once. They had no way of showering or even changing clothes. Food was scarce and they went days without eating to make sure Oliver would stay nourished. The tepid sun burned their skin raw. Still, there wasn't a day they didn't wake up with a smile on their faces, grateful simply for being together.

The universe was on their side. All the sailors commented on how they had never seen the ocean so calm while the wind still blew fast enough to get them to New York in less time than all of them expected. When Quinn watched the so many buildings coming to the horizon, her knees faltered. She had been born and raised in a farm, with only rare trips to the tiny Basseterre with it scarce houses. She didn't know how to live or how to make it in a city. But Rachel looked into her eyes and grabbed her hand and they stepped on to the hard ground together, with their right feet for luck - not that they ever needed it. Luck had never been on their side, but nothing could stop them.

The end of a dream was always the start of a new one. It was the end of Rose Hill, but it was only the beginning of their long life together.


	34. Chapter 34

_Epilogue_

_New York City, 1781_

* * *

Quinn found it difficult to live within the confines of a city. She woke startled at the unexpected rattle of carriages going by, but was always soothed by Rachel’s soft kiss and cuddles that brought her back to sleep. It didn’t take long for them to be settled, although Quinn would forever miss the open fields she had left behind. They had no trouble finding the small apartment that would become their own within a matter of months. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t as beautiful as her house had ever been, but it was hers in a way the farm would never have been either. Each furniture or detail of the house had been picked by the two of them and matched them perfectly. The walls were covered in Quinn’s paintings - paintings she had started to sell to make money.

 

She never wanted to make a job out of what had been a hobby, but once she did, she realized it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. It didn’t feel like a chore, even though most times she wasn’t free to paint exactly what she wanted. When it was just her and a canvas in front of her, everything was simple. It didn’t give her a lot of money, but it didn’t take her long to realize she didn’t a lot of money. As long as she had enough to support them and pay for the medicines Oliver had started to take, she had enough.

 

Oliver had progressed and surprised every doctor that ever laid eyes on him. The constant stimulation of a big city and crowded neighborhood with kids running around the streets all day pushed him in a way the life in a farm never could. Soon enough he was able to sit on his own, clap and giggle whenever he saw a child running out of the window. All the children from the neighborhood knew and loved him, so a few times a day they would stop by the window to make funny faces and get the most delicious laugh from Ollie, who waited all day for those appearances. Still, nothing make him smile as much as he did when Rachel got home.

 

Rachel started working as a cleaning lady in the nearby houses, much against Quinn’s will. Quinn made enough money to allow Rachel to stay at home and take care of Ollie, and they shared the household chores so that Rachel wouldn’t feel like it was her job. But Rachel wanted more. She needed to work to feel useful and she was elated to have her small share of money to help in the house and be able to buy things for them. Quinn was jealous of Rachel being on other people’s house for most of the day, but she knew it wasn’t her choice. She had learned that although Rachel was still hers, she was free to do what she wanted with her life. She knew it didn’t matter whose house Rachel spent the day, because at night she would be in their house, in Quinn’s arms. And it made her proud whenever she would hear someone complimenting Rachel for her work. Rachel continued with her tutoring lessons, always eager to learn, and Quinn was even proud to see how her independence allowed her to spend more than a fair share of her salary with books. 

 

While they both worked, Oliver spend the way with Arabella and Matilda. The moments their families spent together, on Sunday night dinners or impromptu breakfasts in the middle of the week, were priceless. Quinn couldn’t even remember that once she had thought of living near him only in case Oliver needed something or in case she wasn’t able to support them financially. None of that mattered near the joy they felt for simply being together. 

 

The two children would grow to become best friends and shared a complicity that reminded Quinn of her old days with her brother. Tilly was ever so careful with Ollie, even though she was way too young to understand he had been born completely different from her. Ollie and Tilly grew up without ever even seeing a slave, although the city still had some of them. They grew up in the pure and innocence Quinn once had, of not knowing how to differentiate people and never learning what prejudice was. If it depended on them, Oliver would never know he and his mother had been born slaves. In their houses, black and white dined along together and it was natural for them from day one, even though it still attracted some curious looks from neighbors.

 

Neighbors, who on the other hand, had never batted an eye towards the fact that Rachel and Quinn lived together. When moving, Quinn had told everyone Rachel was her sister, but it didn’t take a genius to realize it was more than that. They didn’t look alike in the least. Still, if anyone realized what was happening inside the small apartment, no one said so and Quinn and Rachel lived together as any married couple. In fact, Quinn had asked Rachel to marry her not much time after they arrived in the city. Of course, they could never had a wedding like George and Arabella had, and Quinn would never be able to walk down the isle of a church. But the vows they exchanged under their sheets and the love promises they made every night were worth all the same. 

 

Rachel and Quinn had grown up alone, although in absolutely different positions. They fought their way through life, never conforming to what had been imposed to them from the day they were born. They found each other along their way and together, they were able to the change their worlds as they knew it. Their love was freeing, not only to them and their bounds, but freeing enough to change the little world they had grown up in. Back in Basseterre, Abbie, Dorea and Lou Lee opened a restaurant. They didn’t think they would thrive, knowing white people wouldn’t want to eat there. But they weren’t the only slaves from that farm who had been free, and everyone loved and missed Abbie’s food. The restaurant grew in a way they never imagined and their food became so popular that even a few brave white people dared to dine in every night. 

 

Eugene, Rachel’s father, used the money he had saved his whole life to buy Rachel’s freedom to visit her, instead. He was astonished by the size of the city and enjoyed a summer running through the parks with Oliver on his arms while Quinn and Rachel worked. Never once he said anything about their relationship, although Rachel suspected he knew it. The only words Quinn ever heard from his mouth was of extreme gratitude. He didn’t know that in fact, Quinn was the one who was grateful, for if it wasn’t for him, she would never have Rachel. 

 

Judy, on the other hand, was left to live in the Basseterre house that George left behind. Without any slaves or money to afford house workers, but still with a pride that wouldn’t let her move one finger to clean the house or cook for herself, she died not long after her children moved away. Although George mourned for her from a far, no one came to her funeral. When Quinn heard the news, she shed a tear. Not for sadness that her mother had died, but for the relationship they never had. It wasn’t more than a tear, though. All that she never had with her mother, she was able to build with Oliver, who sometimes, when they were alone, dared to call her mother. Her heart flooded with a happiness that allowed herself to wipe clean any sadness she had ever felt. Lady Angeline never learned of their new location, and none of them ever heard from her again. None of them missed her, either. 

 

In the mornings, Quinn fed Oliver his bottle while Rachel scrambled eggs for their breakfast. Quinn had been learning how to cook, but Rachel still preferred to do so. Anyone who ever tried Quinn’s food would understand why. After pampering Ollie’s face with kisses and watching him wave goodbye from Arabella’s arm, they left together for their respective jobs. Before coming out of the building’s door, Quinn and Rachel kissed and the domesticity of the act made both of them tingle on the inside. Both of them had grown up alone, but right then, no one could ever say they weren’t a family.

 

As they walked out, Rachel looked back to the bushes by their building’s door. Right there, on the bushes Quinn tendered so much for, roses bloomed brightly red.


End file.
